Peace
by Esid
Summary: After being trapped under rubble for weeks, Jack Morrison thinks his fate is sealed. When he wakes up next, he finds himself in the Himalayas, two omnics by his side as well as an old flame he thought dead. There might just be another way to move forward than going on a personal war.
1. Chapter 1

There was nothing but darkness and pain for a long time; a long time, because in that darkness, it was impossible to keep track of time after five days passed. The pain made it difficult to concentrate. It spread from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. There was blood dripping and caked all over his body, but he could not move to stop any of it from happening, as his body was pinned to the ground by stones much heavier than anything he could carry on his own.

Jack Morrison, Strike-Commander of Overwatch—a man equally hated as he was loved by the masses—was dying in what remained of the Overwatch's Swiss HQ. Sheer willpower and a biotic field were the only things that kept him alive. But there was a problem: the biotic field could not heal him enough for him to break free of his concrete and steel prison. His body had sustained too much damage, more than what the device was designed to heal; it would normally be used to stabilize troops on the battlefield long enough for a doctor or medic to get to them and do the real work. So it kept him alive… barely. Then there was also a problem with its battery. It could only do so much healing before its programming told it to shut down and reactivate after a cooldown. Unfortunately, this meant that, while it kept Jack alive, he was bleeding out faster than it or his body could fix him. In reality, he was very slowly succumbing to his injuries.

It was fitting, in a way, for him to die there of all other places, even more with how slowly it was all happening. He'd dedicated most of his military career—most of his life, even—to Overwatch and its cause. And now, just as Overwatch was at the brink of being disbanded, he would be dying with it, it seemed. It was enough to make Jack want to laugh or maybe scoff, but trying to do anything brought the weight of the rubble down on him even more, not to mention crush his already broken ribs, likely causing more damage to his lungs. It would've been easy to resign himself and shut down the biotic field, at least then there would be no more pain. But part of him still had to make sure that his agents had survived. He'd closed the blast doors, trapping himself with those he was fighting, and, hopefully, giving the people upstairs more time to get out of harm's way. It had also likely foiled the coup, trapping all of those that tried to take Overwatch along with their leader and himself. It was worth it.

And so the days went by, maybe quickly, maybe slowly. Jack couldn't tell anymore. Water dripping from the stone above him was his only source of hydration. As for nourishment, he knew he could go for more than three weeks without any. Soon enough, if it hadn't already started, his own body would act as nourishment, eating away at the little fat he had and then his muscles. Too bad there weren't any rats around… not that he could catch them unless they willingly stepped on his face.

Suddenly, a light. It was faint but it was there. Or was it? He could be hallucinating. How else could he explain seeing the faces of those he cared about appear before him so many times? Angela, Torbjorn, Fareeha, Lena, and his parents to name a few. But what if the light was _really_ there? What could he do then? Yell? No, that he could not do. Hit something in an effort to make noise? Both of his arms were broken and he could barely feel his legs. Praying crossed his mind, but he refused to do so. He'd done it once before, praying that is. That time he'd prayed for the life of his second-in-command. She believed in her own gods, so he prayed to those too. She'd always been more devout to them than he was to his. But that did very little to save her life. Why would this be a different case?

The biotic field was within reach, though. From years of using the same device, no matter how many iterations of it they'd made, if you broke the top of it while it was active, you could use it as a make-shift flare that lasted close to a minute before going out; call it a feature or a flaw. But if the light was not seen in that time, it was all over. He would simply bleed out sooner. It was a risk, but one that Jack was willing to take when he saw the light once again. Ignoring the excruciating pain telling him to stop moving, he got a hold of the device and popped it without a second thought.

The light, in a confined space like the one he was in, was blinding. Even the sound of the sparks flying muffled out anything else. If there was someone around, they would be able to see it… he hoped. With his eyes glued to the one spot he'd seen the light, Jack waited; he waited to see a shadow or, hell, even seeing an omnic would be better than staring blankly at the stone. But when the light went out, his ears still ringing, he could still see nothing, yet he kept staring. There was nothing else for him to do then but stare.

"Did you see that?" It sounded robotic, but that was definitely a voice. There _was_ someone there after all! But how could he catch their attention now? "It came from over there."

"Show me." He heard a second voice say, this time human and with an air of authority about it. There were at least two there, though he could only hear the footsteps of one of them getting ever closer. They were coming. They would find him, he was sure. His eyelids were closing on him as much as those two were closing in on him. Maybe he could rest now…

"There is nothing here," said the second voice, sounding almost disappointed. This time Jack catches the femininity there was to it. A woman and an omnic. But they couldn't find him still. Jack's eyes shot open as he panicked internally. He had to do something. Again, he had no other choice but to take a risk.

Gathering all the strength there was left in him, he took a deep breath, and screamed as hard as he could, "over here!" His lungs hate him for it as do his ribs. The sudden movement caused the piece of rubble over him to lower itself some more on him. It crushed him more than ever. If they said something—if they heard him—he didn't know. The pain was all his mind was focused on. He could hear the blood pulsing in his ear and nothing more. But the light! Oh, the light look brighter than ever! And for a moment, he could see what looked like a head popping into view. They'd found him, but perhaps too late, as his vision blurred instantly and there was nothing but darkness and silence, but no more pain.

Images flashed into his mind. Whether these are glimpses of the world as it was, memories, or something else, Jack didn't know. He could see a glowing orb floating over him as he is carried away, presumably out of prison. He could see many small lights, almost like stars, and what he thought look like omnic optics all staring down at him as his body is moved and pulled, his bones cracking with the movements, but he could feel no pain. He could see the blue sky and a mountain range of a place he'd never seen before, with both humans and omnics standing around and staring his way. There were many more images that flash through his mind, but none of those were but a blur to him.

He could hear movement to his left. Someone was standing there, typing something onto a datapad. Slowly, Jack opened his eyes, but the world that greeted him is too blurry. He could see the figure to his left, but whether it was human, omic, or anything else (maybe another Winston) Jack couldn't say. Above him hovered another—possibly the same—orb of light he'd seen before. His movements must have alerted the one on his left, as they set down the datapad on what looked like a basic bedside table.

"You have awoken." It's an observation, not a question, though it was clear that whoever they are, they are directing it at Jack. He tried to move, to sit up, but his body wouldn't let him as it shot pain all through it to stop the movement from happening. A cold, mechanical hand landed on his arm. It is gentle, not wanting to do harm, but to stop him from causing any to himself. "You should not move. Your body is still recovering."

 _An omnic_. It's clear from the tone of its voice.

"You are alive, but your body has you trapped still. Give it time. It must heal before _you_ can heal," the omnic said in that calm voice again. Jack stopped struggling and the hand that held him left him. He couldn't help but notice the way the omnic talked and even carried itself. It was like nothing Jack had ever seen or heard before. There was a serenity to it, almost. It was a strange way to program an omnic, though then again, it could be that this specific model was designed to act as a nurse. "You must rest. Let your body heal. I will inform the others that you have regained consciousness."

 _Others_ meaning more than one. He'd only heard two voices when he was found. The voice of the omnic he heard back then was similar to the one that left the chambers, but Jack wasn't certain. Then there was the woman too, who Jack assumes is part of the "others". But who were these people to begin with? Looking around—moving his body was a no go—the room from the bed, eyeing everything he could see. There wasn't much. There was a _very_ old TV hanging from one of the corners, a nightstand with the datapad on top of it, the door, the bed he was on (obviously) and a massive window with no glass and wooden blinds that slid to the sides that gave him a good view of a mountain range in the distance, but not much else. Wherever he was, Jack only knew it wasn't one of Overwatch's safe-houses—he knew all of those from memory.

After being in the room with nothing but the quiet humming of the glowing orb above him to keep him company, someone finally entered the room. The individual made their way to Jack's left before sitting down on the floor. It was easier to take in the details he could barely make out then. It was an omnic. An older model, perhaps fifteen years of age, if not older from what Jack could see. It's body was painted white with gold accents while its chassis was black and silver; not your everyday omnic by the looks. Without taking it's optics away from Jack, it took the datapad from its place and gave it a few taps before picking up Jack's left hand and placing it under him.

"I believe you know your way around this device, yes?" The voice was different enough from the first omnic he saw, but it was equally, if not more, serene. "You should not strain your body. We can communicate this way. I am sure you have many questions. I will answer them to the best of my ability."

 _Who are you?_ Jack's fingers moved slowly on the pad. He'd been using devices like that for decades, so he knew where each key would be. Typing with one hand made him slow, and the fact that he could barely move in the first place it made it excruciatingly so, but at least he could still do it. If the omnic was frustrated at this, it did not show it, instead looking at the screen patiently until the question mark popped up on the screen.

"Ah, my apologies. In the excitement of the news of your awakening, I forgot to introduce myself," it said, straightening up a bit. The omnic looked taller, though its body didn't seem to move after that. It brought its hands together in front of it and then gave a small bow. "My name is Tekhartha Mondatta. I am with the Shambali. It is a pleasure to meet you, Seventy-Six."

Jack frowned. Back in Overwatch, he had a file on the omnic. Tekhartha Mondatta wasn't only "with" the Shambali, no, it lead them; a group of omnics and, later on, humans that believed that omnics had souls too and that they all were equal. A cult of peace, if anything else. They had taken over an abandoned monastery in the Himalayas years back, which explained the mountain range he could make out in the distance.

Many questions popped into Jack's head, but something immediately bothered him about Mondatta response. _Why are you calling me that? 76?_

"It is a custom we hold," Mondatta explained calmly. "Two of us brought you here in hopes to keep you alive. Because of that, you were never introduced, hence, we gave you a name that is fitting in the meantime. You are number seventy-six to ever be let through the archway of the temple since the Shambali took over. The other that brought you did not want anyone to know who you were either. She suggested the name."

 _You named me 76 because I did not introduce myself, you say. But do you know who I am?_ It would be difficult not to. With all the news outlets around the globe setting their sights on Overwatch, not a day went by with his face not coming up at least once. It made him sick.

Mondatta remained silent even after reading the question. It seemed like he was mulling it over in his mind, thinking of an appropriate response. Its head lowered slightly as if to look at the ground. "I know of who you _were_ , yes. A soldier. A hero. A benevolent man by the standards of some, malevolent by others. But that's who you _were_ , Seventy-Six. You _were_ a soldier. You _were_ a hero. You _were_ Strike-Commander Jack Morrison. A man that, along many others, died when an explosion went off in Overwatch's Swiss Headquarters."

 _But I am alive… I'm still here._

Mondatta nodded. "That you are, Seventy-Six. But as far as the rest of the world knows, Jack Morrison perished. The world has mourned you. They have buried you. They stood united, in silence, the day of your funeral, much like they did when you and the other Firsts brought an end to the Omnic War. Your friends and family shared memories of you—they shed tears for you. And now, they must heal, as do you."

A lump formed at the back of Jack's throat. There was mild prickling in his eyes. _My family_.

"Your father and your mother took the news hard. They were left with no choice but to relocate given the media kept on harassing them. Last I heard, they moved to Egypt. As I understand, they wanted to be there with your daughter."

Jack never had a biological child, but a name immediately came to mind before anyone from Overwatch. _Fareeha…_

"Yes. She extended the invitation to them and they agreed. Together, they will help each other heal."

 _That's good..._ Jack hand went limp as he turned his attention to the roof. If he could, he would've scream. If he could, he would've punch something. But he could do neither of them, so he had to make do with closing his eyes as hard as he could. Time passed and he half expected Mondatta to have left, but when Jack turned to his left, the omnic remained motionless. _How long?_

"You were trapped under the rubble for five weeks when we found you. You were in a section far too deep for anyone to access, even omnics. But we managed to do what the rescue team could not. We took you out and spent the next three days stabilizing you enough to bring you here by the advice of another. That was two months, one week, six days, and eighteen hours ago. You've been unconscious since then."

All in all, close to four months had already passed. No wonder the world thought him dead. _You were the one that brought me here? I remember hearing an omnic…_

A small nod. "Yes. The other was convinced you would still live when news first broke out of what happened. I tried to stop them, but they would not listen. Seeing no other option, I went with them, whether to be there and help them find closure or simply help look through the rubble. I did not expect we would find you alive. I ran calculations for the possibility of your survival. It was a small fraction of a percent—too slim to risk anyone else losing their lives over, but they would not hear otherwise."

 _Who was the other?_

"It is not my place to say. They are conflicted with the situation. They have sat by your side before in hopes to see you awaken. I am sure they will come again now that it has finally happened."

 _And if they don't?_

"Then it is their choice to remain anonymous. Though, I will speak to them on your behalf. After all, they were the ones that wanted your stay here be kept in secrecy. I am sure you will want to speak with them." The omnic moved gracefully, pulling himself up to stand. "For now, you must rest, Seventy-Six. Worry not about anything else. I will visit you again tomorrow."

 _Thank you_. Mondatta bows again before leaving.

As days pass, there are only two people that Jack ever sees. Mondatta, true to his word, came and sat with him for an hour or two every day, answering any questions the old soldier had. The other was another omnic; a newer model compared to Mondatta. It introduced itself as Zenyatta. It was somewhat less formal than Mondatta, but still sounded like an old monk, despite its young age of ten.

Zenyatta was the one that made sure Jack staid alive. And when all the checkups were done, then the two talked about anything that was on Jack's mind. It was Zenyatta who kept him updated on the disbandment of Overwatch as well as how some of their agents were doing.

"Agent Oxton has yet to be seen since her day in court," Zenyatta explained as he floated with its legs crossed. "She has taken everything that has happened very personally. She is quick to defend Overwatch and yourself when someone attacks it."

 _Lena can be passionate about many things._ Jack stops to think for a second. Of the few years he'd known Tracer, not once had he seen her without a smile on her lips for more than a few minutes, even after her incident. But from Zenyatta kept telling him, it seemed that it had been a long time since she'd smiled. He hoped that she was okay. Watchpoint: Gibraltar would do her some good. Winston was there after all. and the two of them had always been good friends.

 _McCree?_

"He has yet to be found. As many other members of Blackwatch, a reward has been set for any information leading to his arrest. He's been spotted all over the United States and even Mexico since the Swiss Incident, but always vanishes when authorities close in on him."

Jack's about to type a response when he heard someone knocking at the open door. In the doorway stood what looked like Mondatta (his sight still hadn't recovered), hours ahead of schedule. The break in the usual routine alerted Jack that something wasn't quite right. "Good evening, Seventy-Six."

Knowing that Mondatta wouldn't be able to see the screen if he were to type something, Jack tried the best he could to wave. It is short and weak, pathetic even, but it brought Mondatta to a chuckle as he bowed in return.

"It seems your recovery is coming along nicely since you have awoken." Jack blinks once. "Excellent. I am glad. But to be truthful, this is not why I have come to check on you, Seventy-Six. It seems that the other is finally ready to see you."

For whatever reason, Jack's heart started racing. The other, the owner of the female voice he heard back in Switzerland, was checking in on him? He was glad, for he could use the opportunity to thank her, but at the same time, why had it taken her so long? From what Mondatta had told him, it seemed that this individual was actively avoiding him ever since he opened his eyes. So, why now?

Mondatta stepped aside and extends an arm out as if beckoning for someone. Sure enough, a new figure covered the doorway; human, for all that Jack could see. He could see they are wearing black and that their hair too is black, but that's all he can make out.

"We shall give you some time," said Mondatta as it turned to look at Zenyatta.

"Do not force yourself, Seventy-Six," Zenyatta reminds Jack before offering its own sort of wave and heading to the door.

Then there's no one left but him and _her_ , whoever she was. When she didn't make a move, Jack wished he could get a hold of the tube going down his throat and rip it out so that he could ask her… anything. But with his arms still healing and her too far away to see the datapad on his left hand, he was at her mercy. He looked at the ground as he waited.

"Jack...?"

And his heart stopped. Slowly, he brought his eyes up. _There's no way_ , he thought as he tried his best to focus and control his breathing. _She's dead_.

She took painfully slow steps towards him, her picture slowly coming into focus with each one. Her hair was long and black, as he'd noticed before, but there was also some gray mixed in. The black of her clothes wasn't just _any_ other black, but the same one as his. She wore a blue beret, eerily similar to the one _she_ wore. One of her eyes is covered by an eye-patch—it looked new and somehow awkward on her. But when he saw her other eye, he knows that there is no way he is seeing what he _thinks_ he is seeing.

 _Am I dead?_ His fingers moved without him knowing. Noticing his movement, she broke eye contact to take a glance at the datapad.

"You aren't dead, you ass." There was no venom to those words. If anything, she sounded hurt.

 _Am I dreaming again?_ It looked like she's about to punch him before she decided otherwise. She took a seat on the floor, on the opposite side than Mondatta would usually sit, and lean closer to the bed. He could see her face clearly now, and there was no doubt in his mind who she was.

She took his hand, bringing it to her face and letting him check for himself. He wanted to squeeze her face when his fingers landed on it and he felt the warmth of her skin, but he could not. She was the real deal. Ana… _You died. Years ago, you died. I sent a team to look for you. They said you were dead. You were supposed to be dead._

She leaned into his touch and gave him a longing smile he hadn't seen in years. One he had never seen, not really, for even in the most intimate moment they shared, she always felt distant and, at times, cold. "Only as dead as Jack Morrison."


	2. Chapter 2

"— _as of tomorrow morning, the Petra Acts will go into effect, making any and all Overwatch activities, whether being carried by the organization as a whole or by independent agents, illegal in the eyes of the UN and all of its members."_

From his spot on the bed, Jack grunted in annoyance. Ever since Zenyatta had turned on the TV, a scowl hadn't left Jack. Overwatch wasn't even dissolved yet and the United Nations were forced to bring it all to a halt as some agents had decided to take justice into their own hands, which was part of the problem. Last thing the world needed was a bunch of vigilantes running around with disregard of civilian lives. No matter how much people praised Reinhart for his noble deeds, it didn't make them any more legal.

" _This marks the end to Overwatch's long history,_ " the young reported commented, looking right to the camera as people, presumably politicians and military personnel from all over the world, walked in the background. " _Talks of the disbandment will continue at the beginning of next week to give the Petra Acts enough time to go into effect—_ "

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Both Jack and Zenyatta immediately turned to the doorway, where a more than displeased Ana stood, growling. She was staring at Zenyatta, who did not flinch under her stare. Showing no hesitation, she walked in and turned off the TV, the picture of the reporter being replaced by the graying screen, before turning back to face Zenyatta. "What made you think it was a good idea to show him that? He's supposed to _relax_. He'll pull some stitches again if he stresses over something he shouldn't be worrying about."

"The quickest path to recovery is facing the past and learning from pain," Zenyatta answers without an ounce of doubt. By the way the two of them spoke, Jack could guess that they had similar conversations before, likely behind his back. While Ana was right—he did accidentally rip out some stitches when Zenyatta had shown him the progress of Overwatch's fall—the omnic had done nothing wrong. "The stitching was only a temporary setback. I made sure to leave an orb of harmony on Seventy-Six this time to keep him calm."

"That's not the point, Zen! You had no right—"

"Ana," Jack called out when he had enough. His voice felt raspy, reminding him just how difficult it still was to talk since the tube that went down his throat was removed a couple days back. His hands still looked for the datapad from time to time whenever he wanted to speak, but Ana took away from him when she learned that he'd been using it to look for information about the Swiss Headquarters and its fallout. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I was the one that asked Zenyatta to keep me updated on things."

Zenyatta remained silent, lowering its head slightly instead. A silent 'thank you' to him or an apology to Ana, he wasn't sure which one it was. Ana, for her part, let out a long and strenuous sigh as she shook her head and rubbed at her temples with her free hand. "Don't do this to yourself, Jack," she said under her breath. "You are lucky you survived through everything that happened. It would be…"

He could see that it was hard for her to get the words out, just like it'd always been in the past when they talked about their personal lives. She rarely shared much, especially when it came to what was on her mind. Even as days became months and months years, she remained the same, and that Jack did not like, but he understood her enough not to pry. He would make it easier on her then. He nodded and pointed as best he could towards what she was carrying. "I'm no expert, but that doesn't look like a mirror to me."

Her jaw hung down just so and she stared at him with her one good eye before she smirked. They'd both known each other long enough to know what he was trying to do for sure. Nonverbal communication had always been what the two excelled at, especially with one another; it was their thing. Even the slightest twitch gave the other a good idea of what they wanted to say even before the other started speaking. It was good to see that even after years apart, they could still do it.

"Don't do that. It doesn't suit you at all," she said when she took the spot to his left, showing him the device she'd been carrying. It definitely was no mirror. "Reminds you of old times, doesn't it? Liao used to carry one just like it all around the place back in the day."

"Always taking pictures of anyone that was willing… or unwilling," Jack filled in with a half broken smile. Liao had been too young to be put through everything she had. The omnic war was no place for a kid. She shouldn't have been part of Overwatch, and technically she wasn't. Nonetheless, she had been a valuable part of the team. "It's too bad she never took a picture with anyone. I still have... had some of the pictures she took in my office. Always carried the one with Reyes, you, and I too and that other one with us all and Fareeha… Good times… _Better_ times."

As if waiting for him to mention the picture, Ana placed two polaroids on his lap while he kept busy examining the camera. He looked up at her for a second before taking a good look at the pictures. They were the same photo, with a '⅓' and '⅔' written on a corner of them respectively. The first one was Ana's. It turned a bit yellow after years (it was hard to keep track of time during the Omnic Crisis) of it being exposed to the light, but the image itself was perfectly clear. A _much_ younger Jack stood in the middle, with Reyes to his right and Ana to his left, the three smiling at the camera. The second one was his. It was singed at the edges and stained with blood, but there was still enough detail there for him to see the same image of the three of them. _A bad memory staining a good one_.

"A picture will do instead of a mirror," Ana said, snapping Jack out of the dark spiral he was headed. Today was the day they would be removing all the bandages from his face. Jack was glad for it. He was never a fan of being wrapped up in bandages, which was why he would often seek out Dr. Ziegler to do her magic, even if it meant getting an earful and being reminded to be more cautious again. But back then they had top of the edge technology that had been developed by the best minds in the world to heal a wound. Jack doubted the same could be said about the Shambali after what they'd done to his eyes. "We can finally see if we can call you Ass-Face instead of Seventy-Six."

"I must remind you that there was no need for skin-grafting," said Zenyatta and Jack was glad for that. He would never hear the end of it otherwise. The term 'kiss my ass' would be ruined, knowing Ana. "Removing skin from one's buttocks to implement somewhere else on their person is a practice that has fazed out for the most part."

"Now you are just ruining the fun. Make yourself useful and hold this while I get the bandages off of him." She passed the camera to Zenyatta, who then went to stand, or, in his case, float at the foot end of the bed. Meanwhile, she leaned a bit towards Jack, gingerly setting her hands on both sides of his head. She removed the small tube-respirator he'd been using to get accustomed to the high altitude of the Himalayas. With that out of the way, it was down to the bandages. He didn't know what to expect, really. He'd only felt rather than seen his face when he was trapped; half of it was practically hanging off at one point, courtesy of one Gabriel Reyes. But while Gabriel had done that damage, Jack had paid him back in full.

By the way Ana looked and took her time unwrapping him, Jack could tell she was nervous. And why wouldn't she be? It was her and Mondatta who'd seen the full extent of Jack's injuries back then. She tried to keep her face stoic, but the little ticks he'd come to understand where showing. She also avoided looking at him directly in the eye as she worked. For all her joking around, Jack could tell that she _didn't_ want him to look like an ass-face either...figuratively speaking. As for Jack, all he wanted was to see his reflection, or picture, and know it was still _him_ looking back. He had not time to gage her reaction when she was done, as a sudden flash of light blinded him.

Memories flood Jack's mind. Flashbangs and grenades exploding left and right. Bullets flying past him as he ran down a corridor, Gabriel chasing after him. Then him standing over his oldest friend, handgun gripped tightly on his hand as he tried to stop the blood seeping out of his face. _No time_. He left Gabriel there. The bomb would go off any second. Would _she_ make it out on time? He had to close the blast doors—

"—ey! Hey! Stay with me, Jack!" If not her voice, Ana's constant shaking of Jack brought him back to the present. He couldn't remember when he'd shut his eyes or when he'd gone ahead and grabbed his head. In an instant, his body was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat, his breathing was ragged, and he was doing his best to fight the throbbing pain in his head and keeping himself from throwing up. He felt her fingers combing through his hair, as she said in a soothing voice, "you're safe."

"I'm okay," Jack said, though even he knew that he didn't sound that convincing. His breathing began to even out slowly until he was finally able to lay back down on the pillows that propped him up. Taking one last deep breath, he knew it was over. He wasn't back in Switzerland. He was in Nepal. With the Shambali. With Ana Amari. "I'm sorry… I don't know what happened."

"It is not uncommon for someone to suffer posttraumatic stress disorder after surviving something like you have done, Seventy-Six," said Zenyatta as he fiddled with the camera in its hands. The polaroid at the front was pulled out and it extended the piece to both Jack and Ana. "My apologies. I did not realize the flash was active. I've disabled it for the time being."

"You had no way of knowing, Zenyatta," Jack quickly said, knowing that if he hadn't, Ana would likely reprimand the poor omnic for something that it didn't have any control over. "It's fine."

The humming from the omnic made it sound unconvinced, but it did not pry further, instead nodding at him. Ana eventually went ahead and grabbed the polaroid along with the camera when Zenyatta extended it to her. "I believe it would be good if the two of you talked. In the meantime, I will search for a hoverchair we can use for Seventy-Six."

Neither of them moved until they were convinced there Zenyatta was far enough from the door. Ana went ahead and closed it, turning back and giving Jack a look of melancholy and worry. She walked back to his side, but instead of standing besides the bed like she usually did, she sat on the edge, facing his way. She took a quick glance at the picture before she handed it to Jack.

The man on the picture definitely was Jack Morrison, but the differences from the one shown on there and the one that had fought in Switzerland were striking. He looked much thinner than before, which was to be expected considering how long he'd gone without food. He would be back to normal in that aspect in no time, especially because of the changes his body had gone through during the Soldier Enhancement Program.

"A little thin, but you needed to lose some weight anyways," Ana jested.

During his whole military career, Jack made sure to be clean shaven and have a military-approved haircut; something practical and short that did not take much to style, but just long enough that it would help people recognize him. Shaving had become part of his morning ritual to the point that skipping a single day put him off for the rest of the day. The last time he'd grown a beard or his hair out was when the war was at full swing. Back then he had little choice as he would be deployed in the field for weeks or even months at a time. So, after years of seeing himself clean shaven and with short hair, the beard and longer hair that he now had felt strange.

"It suits you. It helps hide who you are too. May need a little trim, though," Ana said.

His eyes used to be icy blue, a color he shared with both his parents, but that was no longer the case. His eyes had been too damaged, or so Mondatta told Jack. They had been replaced with pre-Omnic Crisis bionic optics. Though not as good as Ana's own optic eye, which she no longer had, they allowed him to see three times better than his old eyes. But it also came at the cost of having two, electric-blue eyes that lit up, literally and all pun intended. He could see the soft glow of them in the picture. It made Jack uneasy, but he knew that he would grow used to them and the feeling would disappear in time.

"No need for glasses or flashlights in your future," Ana said.

Next were the two, very obvious scars that marred his face; one started close to his hairline, on the left side of his forehead, just over his nose—there was a small bump further down his nose, probably because it'd been broken—and ended on his right cheek, well below his eye, and the other followed the same direction, starting on his left cheek, going across his lips, and ending in the middle of his chin.

"They've always said men with scars are more attractive," Ana said once more.

Last but not least was his hair. For years the blonde hair had been slowly fading to white and silver. Jack didn't mind it, despite being a public figure. A few people had suggested for him to dye it, but Jack ignored them. But looking at the picture now, it seemed that more like years had passed instead of months. At least half of the blonde had turned gray.

"You are looking more like an old, battle-worn veteran every time I see you," Ana said again, which finally had its intended effect as Jack cracked a smile and chuckled.

"Last I checked, I was older than you only by a couple of years," he reminded her as he looked up at her. It was her turn to chuckle. "You've always dominated the looks department though. If it wasn't for your hair, I would accuse you of sharing Oxton's abilities."

"I stuck to the shadows while you were always in the sun," she said with a shrug. She raised the camera up and, without giving him a second to mentally prepare, she took another picture. Thankfully Zenyatta wasn't joking about turning off the flash. The only thing that came from the camera was the sound of the photo being taken and then the polaroid coming out. Ana took hold of the new polaroid, checking her work. "Always looked better smiling. You had all the women swooning when you smiled at them like that."

 _Except the one that really mattered_ , he thought.

He was getting swept by her pace again, he knew. Whatever happened in that room while he was lost in his mind when the first picture was taken alerted her of something that she did not want to share. She was dancing around the subject, and he was letting her. That's why when she moved to sit besides him, their cheeks touching, and she raised the camera, he let her. His hand twitched with temptation to move to her waist, but he restrained himself, opting to smile at the camera instead.

She took two pictures this time. They now had a small pile of them, all gathered in Jack's hands. She fanned them out in her hand, resting the camera on the nightstand. She took two of them out, his old picture stained in blood and the last one she took and offered them to him. "A replacement for now."

With those new eyes it would be hard for someone to tell if he was genuinely smiling as there was no real shine to them. But looking at Ana, she was the complete opposite, a wide, toothy smile across her lips, her single eye conveying more happiness than Jack's whole expression. "It's a good picture," he told her.

There was no need for her to respond. They stayed like that, Ana leaning on him—only slight as to not cause him any pain—as they looked at the pictures Jack held. This time, he did wrap an arm loosely around her. She didn't shy away, instead resting a hand on his forearm. It reminded him of those times when they would sit around on the lounge, knowing there was no one else around. They wouldn't say much back then either. It wasn't necessary. Just knowing they were there for each other always felt like it was enough. They would separate only when one of them had to leave or when someone could be heard heading their way. Sometimes it would be Fareeha, returning from a day at school, eager to speak to her mother or wanting them to tell her a story of the past or even to teach her this or that. Sometimes, Ana stopped her. Others, she didn't.

Just like back then, the moment they heard a knock at the door, Ana moved away from him. _Old habits die hard_ , Jack thought as she walked over to the door. Zenyatta walked in pushing a wheelchair that had to be even older than anyone in that room. It creaked and squeaked as it was moved. Jack made a note to grease the thing in the future, though he didn't want to think he would be using it for too long. His physical therapy would begin soon. He would be walking in no time.

"The temple is very old, abandoned for a long time," said Zenyatta as it noticed the way Ana and Jack stared at the chair. "We are not equipped to house someone as injured as Seventy-Six. I will bring up the topic of getting more medical supplies to Mondatta. In the meantime, I assure you that it will do what it was designed for. I've inspected its structural capacity."

"Just bring it over here and let's get this over with," said Jack, breaking the awkward silence the three shared. Once Jack sat on the chair, with a lot of help from Ana and Zenyatta, they left the room with Ana pushing the chair and Zenyatta floating in front of them, acting as a sort of guide.

The brightness of the outside world made him narrow his eyes, but once he grew accustomed to it, he took in every last detail he could to make up for all the time he'd been confined to bed. The sky was as blue as it could get, a few clouds flying above, providing much needed shade. There were a few statues of omnics being built—sculpting tools laid at the base of each one—which felt out of place when contrasted with the antique architecture. Then again, this was a sort of sanctuary for omnics.

Speaking of architecture, Jack was amazed at the size of everything around him. The buildings and temple were insignificant when compared to modern buildings, but these were built with ancient techniques and had withstood centuries without much of it showing on the foundations. Even the floor made of smooth cobblestone that was leveled perfectly was something you wouldn't see anywhere else. It was a bizarre and almost alien world he found himself in.

They walked past a garden, where a few humans and omnics worked together, hand in hand, to keep the flora blooming; a challenge on itself, as the low temperatures and high altitude made it difficult for anything to survive other than trees. Those that noticed them passing stopped their work and smiled at them. Jack even saw one of the omnics wave while a man clung to its arm. _You don't see that everyday._

But if he was surprised by that small group, he was even more taken aback by the crowd that had gathered together in what he guessed was the temples dining hall. Dozens of humans and omnics sat together, shoulder to shoulder, as they ate, drank, and shared stories with each other. The humans wore everything from casual clothing to business suits, and some omnics, like Mondatta and Zenyatta, wore some clothes too. Though the omnics did not eat, they did not look out of place. Even their postures seemed natural, as they leaned in on the tables like humans did when engrossed in a story, or leaned back on their chair to look more relaxed. They even laughed and made jokes of their own.

Once again, as they passed by, there were a good share of strangers that greeted them with smiles and waves. Jack tried his best to respond in kind, but he was a little too overwhelmed by everything he was seeing. It was one thing to read reports about everything the Shambali were doing, it was a completely different thing to witness it.

They ended up taking one of the few unoccupied tables left, a circular one, with Ana sitting to Jack left and Zenyatta to his right. Almost instantly, an omnic and a young girl in her mid twenties came over and placed a plate of food in front of Ana and Jack as well as a cup of tea.

"They finally let you out of your cage, huh?" A remark that one would expect from a human was said by the omnic in such a natural way that it didn't seem strange in Jack's mind until it lingered there for too long.

"Sush, Yera," said the girl, giving the omnic a scowl and a pout. "The guy's still getting used to everything, don't go acting so familiar with him right off the bat."

"I'm just saying…" Yera tilted its head towards Jack.

The girl gave out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry, Mr. Seventy-Six. Yera gets too excited when new people come here. We'll leave you to your meal, don't worry. I won't let him bother you."

Jack kept an eye on the couple as the girl dragged away the omnic, who clearly wanted to ask more questions. When they were out of earshot, Jack turned to his companions. "Is this place always so… lively?"

"You won't find this many people gathered during a normal lunch, no," Zenyatta answered with a chuckle. "I believe they are excited to meet you, Seventy-Six. Or at the very least, see you. Many of them saw you when you were brought in. The fact that you are alive is something they all want to celebrate."

"Same thing happened when I first came," Ana said as she set down her spoon. "After a while, you stop seeing the omnics as robots and instead you see them as...one of the bunch. One more of the group."

"The best and fastest way for omnics and humans to bridge their differences is by interacting with each other and forming real bonds," Zenyatta continued. "Though we may not eat, sharing a table is of utmost importance. A great deal of human interaction happen during meal times; Humans lower their defenses and are more approachable. It is important that we, as omnics, show we mean no harm by bonding with humans. Speaking of peace between our kind and yours spreads the message, Seventy-Six. But if no one is willing to set an example, those words hold no meaning."

That was strange. Was Zenyatta taking a shot at Mondatta? Despite the message Mondatta was trying to spread, the leader had never been seen with many humans, or omnics for that mattered, outside the temple of the Shambali, that seemed more personal. But then again, Mondatta had been visiting Jack and speaking with him since he woke up. _But I'm in the temple now_.

"You disagree with Mondatta's teachings?" Jack asked, taking the chance to get some food in him. Too bad that instead of the meaty stew that Ana was eating, he'd been given a rice soup instead. Then again, this would be his first solid meal in a while. He couldn't give a shock to his system by having a more balanced meal of meat, grain, and vegetables off the start.

"Mondatta means well," said the monk after a while of pondering about it. "His message has brought a lot of omnics and humans closer, as you can see around us. He will likely have a bigger impact in the next few years, as he is becomes more notorious. However, it is his methodology I do not agree with. If we bring all those that agree with his words here, there will be no one left out there to _show_ the rest of the world that it is possible for humans and omnics to coexist as equals."

"Telling people omnics have a soul is one thing," Ana filled in. "Showing it is another."

It seemed that, despite appearances, the Shambali weren't as unified as Jack first thought.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello, Wor- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or—"

Winston let out a long sigh of frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Nothing he tried worked, and at this point he was getting more frustrated with each failed attempt at fixing the AI. He knew that the task would likely lead to nothing in the end, but that didn't stop him from trying. The Commander deserved at least that much effort.

"Perhaps we should leave it there for today," came the voice of the Watchpoint: Gibraltar's and Winston's own personal AI, Athena. "Your stress levels are alarmingly high, Winston. You should not push yourself so hard. I would recommend some exercise followed by a hearty meal. You have been binge eating too many bananas and peanut butter for your own good. You must watch your intake, Winston. A healthy diet will go a long way in keeping you calm. There is a variety of fruits and vegetables in storage—"

The scientist snorted. A good meal and some rest sounded great, but it would feel like wasted time to him; time he'd much rather be using to do something more important. Winston was able to convince the UN that Overwatch bases needed some personnel in them to keep them from going into disrepair. They agreed, but only until Overwatch was disbanded, at which point all personnel would be forced to leave. This meant that Winston was working against the clock. Ever since the Petras Act went into effect, the motions for Overwatch disbandment had been pushed through at lightning speed. By Winston's own calculations, there would be nothing left of Overwatch except for empty buildings in two months time, tops. He had to take full advantage of the facilities while he could still legally use them.

Suddenly, the device and tools he'd been holding on his hands were snatched away from him by small, robotic arms coming from the table. Winston glared at one of the many screens around him. "I need to do this, Athena. If I can get it working, we might know what exactly happened in Switzerland. We might even be able to pinpoint the location of Morrison's body. Maybe then people can visit a grave that has a casket that isn't empty… It would also help Mr. and Mrs. Morrison find some closure."

"We never recovered the body of Ana Amari, and yet, Commander Morrison visited her grave every month without fail," Athena reminded him. The subject of the Sub-Commander was a sore one for everyone in Overwatch, especially the Commander, which was why not many people discussed the event that lead up to it, but instead remembered Ana with fonder memories. Still, it was no secret that the Commander would take a day off every month to visit her grave. Everyone knew about it to the point that not even the higher ups in the UN would try to schedule anything with him during that time. "I doubt the Commander would care whether his body was collected or not. I must remind you that there are still high levels of radiation in the rubble of the headquarters too. He would not want others to risk their lives to recover his remains."

""No one gets left behind", he used to say…" Those words had always been spoken by the Commander. It was odd that now that the man was gone, they didn't mean as much as they used to.

Athena remained silent, the small arms she controlled still holding their position with Winston's tools. To Winston's surprise, Athena set everything back down on the table. When he was stubborn in the past, she would store everything away until he agreed to do what she wanted. "You are being too stubborn, Winston. I see I won't be able to convince you to do otherwise… I will prepare a meal for you. I expect you to eat it without complaints. In the meantime, you can continue tinkering with Cayde."

Winston had made a list of possible solutions that would bring the AI back to life. Every time one of them failed, he would cross it off the list, which should have made it shorter. But where one door closes—not another—many more open. The list itself kept on getting longer. Some of his proposed solutions were from difficult to rightout impossible to do, especially because of the Petras Act. Besides, where would he get the budget for a whole new super-computer? There would be some at other Overwatch stations, but those already had AIs installed in them, making it more of an ethical decision whether sacrificing one of those for the sake of knowing what happened in the Swiss base was worth it, especially after bureaucrats were so fast to put out answers for the public.

"How are things going, my friend?" The booming voice of one Reinhardt Wilhelm broke Winston out of his thoughts. The towering man came to stand at the other side of the workbench Winston was using. To the Crusader's side, young Bridgette stood, looking equally as curious as her elder. How Reinhardt was able to convince the girl to travel with him and even fix his armor was beyond the scientist. Torbjorn was always one to recruit interesting assistants, even if they ended up taking a better liking to others more often than not. "Any progress?"

"Ah, yes, well," Winston fidgeted with his hands, feeling a little embarrassed that he hadn't made much progress at all. Reinhardt and Brigitte brought the core to him days ago, hoping he would be able to get something out of it. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Winston signaled towards the core. "I was able to get it talking for a bit."

"Oh! That is great work!" Reinhardt roared, looking very pleased. It was a shame he was likely overestimating Winston's work. "The Commander would be proud! Does this mean we can ask it a few questions?"

"Not… exactly…" Winston clicked the execute command on his console, activating the damaged core.

"Hello, Wor- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or- or—" and shut it down.

After a moment of silence where the three of them stared at the core's dimming light, Brigitte raised an eyebrow. "What's it trying to say?"

"Hello, World!" responded Athena with some misplaced excitement. Brigitte seemed to understand the meaning behind her words, but Reinhardt looked equal parts puzzled and confused.

"Hello, Athena! Good to hear you are still here," said a cheerful Reinhardt.

"Oh, no, no. She was explaining what Cayde was trying to say. It is a common phrase programmers use during testing phase of their code," Winston explained. "Even to this day, it is amongst the first lines of code implemented to all existing AI, though it is usually commented out so that it doesn't execute. But since Cayde is damaged, he may have changed his own code in an attempt of self-preservation when power went out."

"So the problem is in its code, then?" Bridgitt asked.

"Yes and no. You see, Cayde was coded to keep track of all of the HQ as well as the outposts by itself, which would require a network we don't have here, as well as routing an immense amount of power that we can't supply him with without raising suspicion on ourselves. That means we need to give him a few downgrades for him to even turn on. If the hardware was there, the software wouldn't need any tinkering. But because the software is more advanced than anything here can handle, it's faster to dumb him down instead."

"Cayde could very well use being dumbed down," said Athena. "He became quite obnoxious after Agent McCree left Overwatch. He called it a parting present for the Commander, but I cannot fathom why that would be or why the Commander never reverted the change after so many years."

Ignoring Reinhardt's louder-than-belows laugh that echoed in the room, Brigitte turned to look at Winston. "What about installing the core on one of the omnic bodies that are in storage here? Torbjorn used to say that Gibraltar was full of them, so he liked to keep away. I remember him complaining about it constantly saying that he rather have them thrown to sea than keeping them deactivated for no good reason."

"Ah, yes!" Suddenly, Reinhardt looked like he'd just remembered something. "Most of our own omnic agents came from here! I'm sure we could find something we can fit him to."

"That would go against the Petras Act," Winston was quick to remind them, not that he hadn't thought about it first. In his case, it was Athena who'd stopped him from trying anything that could endanger him and the fragile state of Overwatch.

"Does it matter at this point, though?" Brigitte asked. "Keeping Cayde hidden away here without the UN knowing _is_ against the Petras Act already. Besides, if he has something in there that explains exactly what happened in Switzerland, we could still save Overwatch from collapsing."

The idea of keeping Overwatch alive was tantalizing. Winston wouldn't be the only one happy if they could all keep working together as they used to, even if there were a few shoes that could never be filled by anyone else. But it was one thing to be wistful and another to act. They were treading in dangerous territory that could land them all in jail… maybe a zoo, in Winston's case. He briefly snarled.

"Athena, are there any available units that could hold this type of core?" Winston asked.

"According to my archive, there are none in site." Brigitte, Reinhardt, and Winston sighed in disappointment. "However, it could be possible to transfer most of the data still left intact inside the core onto OX3; an experimental omnic designed by our best omnic-experts, sans Doctor Lin."

"If that one is the third one, what happened to the other two?"

"They exploded on initiation."

"So much for being the best," said Brigitte under her breath. "But do we have any other real choice? The core could get more damaged if we keep messing with it so much. At least this way there is a chance of finding out _something_."

"You are right, but it's still risky," Winston said, approaching the core. "If the transfer fails, all the data will be corrupted, meaning all our effort will be for nothing. We could lose our only chance to find some answers."

"But Winston, wouldn't we lose the data anyway if something went wrong while trying to fix it?" the crusader put in. It seemed that, by majority, the argument was settled. They would try the transfer, be it for the best or the worst. Winston only wished that it turned out better than his attempts at fixing the core had, because if all the omnic did after it woke was walk around repeating "Hello, World!", then he saw a lot of headaches heading his way in the future.

Finding the omnic body wasn't a problem thanks to Athena's guidance. Despite the base not being one of Overwatch biggest, it would still take weeks to find anything that was in deep-storage manually. The box the body was in did not stand-out from the hundreds of others around it. It was by a miracle that it hadn't been moved elsewhere, as it did not contain any marking or codes that would make it easy to track. And something told Winston that it wasn't by accident.

They took the box into the workshop, laying out the body on the table. Reinhardt and Brigitte stood to a side as Winston and Athena went through the process of establishing the connections between the core and the omnic for transfer. It was a tedious job, one that required someone with more finesse than the Crusader, the mechanic, or the scientist had, but they had to make do.

OX3 itself was a marvel of modern technology. Compared to standard omnics, or even all other Overwatch units, it had human optics, a mouth, and even was even more proportionate to a human body. In a way, it would go under the uncanny valley if it wasn't for the obvious lack of a nose, ears, and skin. But it did make you wonder, why would an omnic need two-eye-optics and a mouth?

Pushing the thought aside, Winston continued with the task at hand, meticulously double and even triple checking every single connection. When he was satisfied, he turned to look at his two spectators, who gave him thumbs up in return.

"Well, it's now or never," Winston said. The input on the holoscreen were filled one by one. Eventually, there was nothing more to do than to execute the program. It was only one click, but to Winston it sounded like someone hit a hammer besides his ear. It his ears ringing and his heart thumping. A message on the screen popped up, showing an estimated time of four days before the transfer was complete. Winston let out a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. "Nothing to do now but to wait."

"Just in time," said Athena. "Dinner has been served. Please proceed to the mess hall. I've prepared something adequate for you two as well, Reinhardt and Brigitte."

"Danke," the two responded.

The three of them sat at the table. Athena had already brought out their meal, which sat, steaming, in front of each one of them. It seemed that the AI had made each one of them a meal that went accordingly to their tastes and needs. Brigitte's and Reinhardt's were very similar, protein-heavy meals, the only difference being the portions and a side-dish. Winston's on the other hand consisted mainly of steamed vegetables, rice, vegetables, oh, and did he mention vegetables? He could take a hint. Bananas and peanut butter were delicious, giving him all the calcium and protein he would ever need, but they were hardly what anyone would call a balanced meal.

They were halfway through their meal when Athena notified them that Tracer was calling. For almost a year, the girl had been unreachable. Lena had been one of the main focuses in the case against Overwatch, as the Slipstream Incident was made to be a case against keeping Overwatch around. Her along with Angela and Torbjorn were the most scrutinized of their agents by the UN, being forced to show up at least twice a week to sessions. Because of that, hearing that any of those three were trying to call was reason enough to celebrate, though it did put Winston on edge, as they would be calling for a good reason.

"Put her through, Athena," Winston called out. A holoscreen came down from the roof, positioned so that it looked like another person had joined the table. The image on the screen appeared, showing Lena in her formal suit sitting down in a dark room, the glow of the screen and of her chronal accelerator being the only sources of light in the whole room. She was a far cry from the usual cheerful self, a small smile being the only thing she could muster to give once she noticed she had connected. "Good to see you, Lena."

Reinhardt, always cheerful, greeted her too while Brigitte had to settle for a wave, as she was mid-bite when the call connected."

"Heya, guys," Lena said, her smile growing a little more with each greeting. "Having a get together and not inviting me? And I thought we were friends, Winston."

Seeing her trying to joke made Winston feel a little better. The Lena he knew was still in there. It must have been a particularly hard day she had for her to be acting so...off. "It's been awhile since we last had a chance to talk. How are you doing?"

"Good! Good…" When no one else said anything, staring at the screen, she turned her eyes to the ground. They all knew her well enough to know—maybe with the exception of Brigitte— that she wasn't doing that well. They were all family before and they still were. They'd gone through so much together. It would be impossible for her to hide something that was bothering her from them. "Actually, not so good… I keep getting asked trick questions that make the Commander look bad. No matter what I do, they twist my words around and use them against me. It's...stressful. Not even going for a run clears my mind anymore."

"They are using all of us to justify shutting down Overwatch," Reinhardt said, looking less than pleased, his hand clenched so hard that Winston thought the fork would be destroyed. "They don't care about the good we've done or finding out exactly what happened in Switzerland. They want to wash their hands of it all by shifting the blame."

"It's not right," said Lena with a nod, jumping a little on her seat before slouching back down. "They keep us here instead of sending us _there_ to find out what happened! It's ridiculous! And now a _whole_ year has almost gone by and we aren't any closer to finding out what really happened. I think I speak for all of our agents when I say that the suits don't know what they are doing. It's almost like they are stalling or something. It's depressing..."

"And here I thought that I would never see the day that I would hear the word "depressing" come out of your lips, Agent Oxton." Those sitting at the table turned to look at the approaching figure coming into the room. Even the screen Lena was being shown on angled slightly so that she could see. With heavy steps, the omnic came to a halt close to the table, propping both hands on it and leaning forward. "I was almost right."

"Um… I'm sorry, but… Who are you?" Lena looked as confused as she could be, one of her eyebrows reaching for the sky as she leaned forward to take a better look at her own screen. All everyone else could see were her eyes and a whole bunch of forehead. "Winston, love, you didn't tell me there was someone else there!"

"Ouch," the omnic moved a hand towards where a human heart would sit, its eyes narrowing a bit. "I thought you would recognize me for sure. I don't blame you. Kinda look a bit different now. Or, should I say, you can _actually_ see me now."

Winston stood up from the table, moving closer to the omnic as he adjusted his glasses. "Athena, why didn't you tell us that he'd woken up?"

"Oh? Athena _is_ here?" The omnic looked up at the ceiling, one of his hands moving to his hip while the other pointed accusingly at the spot he was looking at. "You little minx. You made me look like an idiot when I was learning to walk! What's with the cold shoulder to your old pal?"

" _That_ is why I did not, Winston" Athena responded. If the AI could scoff, Winston would be shocked to hear her do it right then. He could almost picture a virtual head shaking from side to side, eyes looking on in disappointment. "Please do not refer to me as "minx" or any other "pet names" from now on, Cayde."

"You're just jealous I have a body now and you don't!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" The omnic lowered his finger, turning to look at the screen showing a Tracer that seemed to regain the glow in her eyes. "You mean Cayde as in the Swiss Cayde?!"

"The one and only! Well, mostly. Still no sexy Swiss accent, though." While Cayde talked, Winston was already examining his every movement closely. The level of expression that was always lacking in other omnics was there. If it wasn't for the metallic exoskeleton and the too robotic looking face—even with more human optics and mouth—he would pass for a human. To think Overwatch had been working on such an exemplary omnic!

"This is good news!" Reinhardt hit the table with his fist, having set down his fork at some point during Lena's and Cayde's exchange. He looked ready to jump over the table to crush the omnic in one of his infamous hugs. Only Brigitte's hand on his arm stopped him from doing it. "Ahem. Well, with this we can have access to the HQ files, yes?"

"Oh, sure, sure," Cayde waved a hand in front of him as if it was nothing. "What's left of them, at least. I had to shut down and delete sensitive data in case someone tried to get their hands on it, but I kept an encrypted backup on me. Just need the Commander to input his password."

There is an eerie silence in the room. All the smiles that had spread between them suddenly fell. Cayde looked between all of them, even turning to the screen for a second, but no one said anything. Without warning, he stepped closer to Lena's screen and reached out to it. Windows popped open one by one, quickly covering the whole screen. Winston could see that as the seconds went by, Cayde's eyes fell more and more to the floor, his mechanical brow furrowing and his mouth closing into a thin line. It took the omnic only seconds to process the data, closing the windows on the screen so that Tracer's face was once again visible.

"Command Protocol is now in effect." Raising a hand, a hologram projected out of Cayde's hand, depicting the Overwatch logo surrounded by strings that connected to photos of six agents. Three of these were marked as KIA: Sub-Commander Ana Amari, Blackwatch Commander Gabriel Reyes, and Strike-Commander Jack Morrison. One of the pictures was marked as MIA: Doctor Liao Lin. And finally, the last two were of Reinhardt and Torbjorn. "With the chain of command broken, a new Strike-Commander has to be appointed by two of the three Firsts that remain. And given that Agent Lin has been missing for close to two decades, that only leaves two real choices."

"Wait a minute, loves. We can't do that," Lena said, though she looked conflicted by her own words. "We would be going against the Petras Act if we appoint a new Strike-Commander. Besides, wouldn't the UN have the power to overwrite that order and have you hand everything over to them, including Cayde?"

"Negative. I was programmed to follow instructions given by Overwatch only as a failsafe in case someone took control of my core or tried to identify themselves as a United Nations representative. Without a Strike-Commander, access to sensitive files is restricted."

"What _can_ you tell us?" asked Brigitte, her frustration showing in her brow.

"Well, I can tell you that the official statement the UN put out about what happened in Switzerland is bullshit."

"What do you mean?" Winston asked, his interest piquing.

"They state that that the battle that broke out between Commanders Morrison and Reyes lead to the explosion of the base, taking with it the lives of both of them as well as twenty-six more agents; the explosion caused by one of the nuclear-cores that powered the base overheating from damage caused during the fight. However, all cores were in pristine condition _before_ the explosion took place. I even set them offline just in case." As to prove his point, the hologram switched to stats on the different cores in the base, showing them working on optimal levels all the way until they were shut down.

"The explosion came from a warhead rigged to blow at the lowest underground level of the base in order for it to compromise the structural integrity of the building. This was carried out by Blackwatch agents lead by Commander Gabriel Reyes."

The revelation made Winston's blood run cold. It was one thing to think that Reyes and the Commander's fight would lead to an incident that cost many lives. But he'd always thought it was just that. An accident. But now Cayde was telling them that Reyes had deliberately caused the explosion, knowing full well that if it hadn't been found out, it would've killed hundreds of Overwatch agents and thousands of civilians because of nuclear fallout. Their friend tried to kill them all without anyone but the Commander knowing.

"Commander Morrison initiated the evacuation procedure, but went to confront Commander Reyes. There, Reyes and his Blackwatch lackys opened fire on the Commander and all other Overwatch agents that came across them. The body count of the event, including those that died during the explosion, is fifty-two."

There was a cracking sound. Reinhardt had somehow broken off a sizable piece of the table. The once jolly man looked ready to kill whoever crossed him, and by the looks, he wasn't the only one. Tracer was gritting her teeth hard, even as all color had left her face. Even Brigitte had the eyes of a killer as she sat with her arms crossed over her chest.

"That's enough, Cayde," said Athena, the only one that still sounded calm through it all. "It would be best to listen to this in a more—"

"Go on, Cayde," Winston interrupted, his eyes connecting with those of the omnic, who nodded in return.

"Well, there is only one more big thing to mention," Cayde began. "The report remarks that the explosion killed both of the Commanders, but that is not true." There was a moment of hope. Winston could see it in all of them as their jaws slung down a couple of inches. They'd been like deers frozen by the light of an incoming truck. "I couldn't talk to him directly because of the damage to my systems, but I could still monitor Commander Morrison's vitals."

A small graphic appeared in front of them, showing a timeline with all of the Commander's vitals, starting an hour before the explosion.

"He was still alive…" Tracer put everyone's thoughts into words as the graph moved from day to day, showing that, despite some peaks and lows, Jack Morrison lived through the explosion. Unfortunately, the graph stopped three weeks after the event. Cayde explained that by then, he was forced to go into sleep mode and cut off all nonessential systems. "The Commander was alive for _at least_ three weeks under there… But the search was called off after only two weeks."

"Radiation would have forced it all to stop," Winston proposed, a bad taste still lingering in his mouth. "There were never reports on that, but I assume that if a warhead went off, there would be enough radiation there that it would keep machinery from operating for more than a few days, not to mention the number of personnel that would suffer from poisoning."

Reinhardt leaned over the table, his hands clasped on his head. His voice, full of pain, was barely audible. "He was waiting for us to come for him… For three weeks he survived, but we just left him there… We failed Jack."


	4. Chapter 4

"Fuck," Jack grunted as he tried to stand, only for his legs to fail him, forcing him to lay back down on the floor. Gritting his teeth, he moved a hand over the injured area. His linen shirt felt wet to the touch, and though he could feel his body drenched in sweat, he knew that it wasn't sweat he was touching. As to confirm his suspicion, he took a closer look at his shaking hand. "Shit. Shit. Shit!"

His last surgery had been three days prior. He was meant to take it easy; to rest. Ana even forced him to use that damn wheelchair until the cut closed. Instead, he'd ripped the staples that held him together right off. The blood wasn't going to stop itself and, guessing from how dark it was inside the room and out the window, there wouldn't be anyone checking in on him for a few more hours. But there was nothing for him to use to stop bleeding. There was a heater on the corner—one of those old steam heaters that were common in run-down apartment buildings. Jack had to crawl to it on his good side, as every time he tried to stand, pain shot through his side and forced him back down. He reached out to check on the metal pipes' temperature, but soon found out that, despite being hot to the touch, they weren't anywhere close enough to use for cauterization. That left him with only one viable option: use the staples that were already hanging off of him to close the wound.

Stitching himself up was something most veterans of the Omnic Crisis had done at least once before during or after combat because of the lack of medics. He knew the procedure well enough. The problem came in the shape of the staples themselves. He would have to pinch hard enough on them to pierce through the skin and then fold the edges to keep them from coming off again. It would not be a pleasant experience, especially when he was already in so much pain and breathing heavily.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he got a hold on the first staple with one hand while he pulled the skin together with the other. With a little effort, he was able to push in the staple through the other side, his teeth clenched so hard that they felt like they would shatter. And to fold the staple, he had to put all his weight onto it, pushing it down at an angle against his ribs. The whole experience left him gasping for air. _One down, nine to go_.

By the time he was done, the once clean floor was left a mess. If someone came in, they would think someone had been killed in there. It wasn't the best, but to keep the mess to a minimum was the last thing in Jack's mind. The room had a stench to it that was making him gag. It was almost suffocating. His mouth and throat felt like cotton. He couldn't breath. He would worry about the mess later. He had to get out of there or otherwise his mind would not be the only thing he would be losing.

With his head pounding, he considered his options. The wheelchair was still in his room, resting against the far wall in the room. It was the intelligent choice to use it, but Jack _hated_ the way he felt when he used it—vulnerable and weak, like an old man. He could always crawl out, but that would make an even bigger mess, and the last thing he wanted was to make a commotion when everyone woke up in the morning. Besides, he was sure that the staples would come right out again if he decided to take that route. Lastly, there were crutches he'd used for some time still in the room. The problem there was balance. He was having a hard time standing up already. Walking would be a challenge, even with the added support of the crutches. But from all options, it was the most balanced. It wouldn't harm his pride nor his body as much as either of the other two.

Getting to his feet was a lot easier with the staples back in place, though still painful. Mostly supporting his body with his upper body because of the crutches, Jack was able to leave the room behind him, making his way through the courtyard. The fresh, cool air hitting his face was helping clear out his mind, but it was also having an adverse effect; the sound of the wind blowing was being replaced by the sound of gunshots and people screaming.

Jack kept moving forward, ignoring the sounds as best he could. And when he started seeing people bleeding out on the ground, screaming for his help, he pretended not to see them, instead focusing on the only thing he could. He had to keep moving forward. His old scars began to itch. It took all of his will not to scratch at them. The sweat on his body had turned blood red and the air around him suddenly felt hot, blurring his vision. Through it all, Jack kept reminding himself that it was all in his mind, but that didn't make anything look, sound, or feel any less real.

By that point, he was gasping for air like he was drowning. The long strides he'd been taking since he left the room had turned into more of a shuffle, as he fought all his senses. _Forward_. He had to move forward.

He could hear the voice of Torbjorn asking if he was okay. _I'm fine, Torb_.

He could hear the voice of Angela berating him for missing his check-up again. _Tomorrow, Doc._

He could hear the voice of Lena reminding him to not be late for the celebration. _Don't worry, I'll be there._

He could hear Fareeha telling him that he needed to take a break from work while he still had the chance. _I'll see what I can do, Kid._

All lies and broken promises, in the end. He knew they were as he passed each one of them, heading deeper underground. He had to stop Gabriel before the man did anything irreversible. There was still time for them to turn things around. They were family. They made things work even after Liao disappeared. They made things work even after Ana died. They would work it out this time too, before anything happened to Gabriel. But where Jack had been hoping to reach out to his friend—even when it was hard to call him that after everything that happened—and bring him back to them, Gabriel had already made his decision.

Jack could feel the blood dripping down his face, the droplets landing on the floor as he looked around Torbjorn's forge room. The heat was unbearable, but that didn't stop the two men from fighting each other. Jack was pulling his punches, hoping that he could subdue Gabriel instead and reason with him. Gabriel, on the other hand, was fighting full force. And thought Gabriel was neither faster nor stronger, he had the upper hand in the fight. Swinging his knife, it connected with Jack's face, tearing at it for a second time. Jack mouth filled up with his own blood in an instant.

"Always a step behind, Poster Boy," Gabriel said as he prepared to launch himself on the offensive again. "Time for you to die."

The same thing happened with Amélie before, and Ana had paid for it with her life. Without hesitation, Jack knocked the knife out of Gabriel's hand. The man standing before him was no longer the man Jack had fought the Omnic Crisis with, nor the man that helped create, however reluctantly, Overwatch in a post-Omnic Crisis world. This was a man hellbent in killing everyone in the base for an unknown reason. A terrorist. An enemy. How many agents had already died because of him? _Too many_. That wasn't a person worth saving. Not anymore.

Jack forced Gabriel back, hitting hard enough to shatter bones, but that wasn't enough, it seemed, as Gabriel pulled out his shotgun. Jack knocked the gun out of his hand and grabbed Gabriel by the back of the neck. The forge itself was open. Jack ignored the screams as he threw Gabriel on the floor, unholstering his gun to point it down at the enemy. A molten-alloy mask. That would have to do. He left the forge room knowing that he would have to deal with the consequences of not putting Gabriel out of his misery, instead leaving the man he once considered his best friend in a slow and painful death.

"Cayde, status report." Jack hurried towards the exit, holding his face together as best he could. Too bad his biotic field was still on cooldown. Since discovering the ploy, Jack'd been trying to distract the Blackwatch agents and Gabriel while Cayde did what it could to dismantled the bomb.

"Something or someone is locking me out, Commander." The AI's answer brought Jack to a halt. "My permissions are being overwritten. I can't access anything in the lowest levels."

A split second decision. "What about the blast doors?"

"Negative, Commander. Whoever is doing this knows what they are doing. It's as if they knew the layout of this place down to the last wire. They work fast, too. I'm being locked out of systems left and right, center."

"What about the manual override?"

There was a pause. "...It's on basement level 6. But Commander, you can't be serious. In your current state, Super Soldier or not, you won't be able to make it back out before the door close. Scratch that, not even if you were at your optimal. You'll be trapped in there!"

And so he would be. If it bought his people enough time to escape, he would be glad to stay behind. All he could really think about was how all of them would hate him for staying behind. Would his parents be proud of him? Or would they hate him for leaving before them? Would everyone else forgive him for dying like that? He really hoped Ana's gods let him visit her once in awhile, at least.

He laid down, waiting for the end, setting down the newly refreshed biotic field aside. _Might as well give it one last use._ The explosion came soon after.

Jack fell to his knees, clutching his head, the crutches having been long forgotten somewhere on the ground. The images were overwhelming. He needed help, but his throat wouldn't let him get a word out. It was all in his mind. He knew that. But that did not stop things from seeming real to him. His trembling hand moved to stop the bleeding on his face.

Then he felt the all-too-familiar feeling of an orb of harmony. The effect was instant. Jack was able to finally suck in enough air, even if his heart was still racing and he still had to keep on breathing heavily.

"Sit," said Zenyatta as he now floated in front of Jack. The way he spoke left little room for argument. Jack, after some struggle, sat on the ground with his legs crossed, his hands resting on top of his knees and his back hunched. "You must take control of your body. Focus on your breathing. Feel the way the air courses from your mouth, down your throat, and then fills up your lungs. Expand. Contract. Let it flow out your nose."

Jack closed his eyes and followed the instructions to the letter. Slowly, his body stopped shuddering, and his breathing, though still ragged, was not as desperate as it was before.

"Feel the way your heart pumps the blood through your body. Focus on it. Listen to its beating. Feel the warmth of it spread through our body. Slowly, try to control its rhythm. Breathe slowly. Relax your body and only concentrate on your heart."

The voices became whispers. And then they were gone.

"Hear your surroundings, but do not listen to them. Focus on the whole, not on the individual. Do you know where you are?"

Jack could hear the wind again. Rustling leaves and grass. Some birds flapping their wings, but not chirping. There was an emptiness around him. Zenyatta was there as well as a couple of trees. The soldier could picture the statues of meditating omnics not too far behind where he sat. _The garden_.

"Open your mind," Zenyatta's voice seemed to echo. After that, he did not give Jack anymore instructions. He wasn't sure how much time had passed until he finally opened his eyes. It was still early in the morning, but the sun had risen past the horizon. In front of him stood Mondatta, who had gathered the crutches and held onto them as he looked down at Jack. Though he was surprised to see a different omnic in front of him, Jack was not bothered by it.

"Welcome back, Seventy-Six," the omnic said as he extended a hand. Without hesitation, Jack took hold of it and was able to stand with the help. It was strange how strong Mondatta actually was considering his small frame—even if most of it was covered in cloth, from the little Jack could see, Mondatta was by no means a construction omnic. Jack had seen smaller omnics easily overpower people twice their size, though. It made the soldier wonder if the omnics were always trying to hold back or if Mondatta was simply designed that way. Jack took back the crutches, allowing Mondatta to stand straight once more. "We should head back to your room. If the others saw you with your clothes covered in blood, it would raise many questions that we rather avoid."

There was no need to tell Jack why that was. Most people there knew not to ask questions when it came to who Seventy-Six used to be before he was brought in, and if anyone knew, they never mentioned it. Mondatta had vouched for him personally and asked them not to pry too much, which was why they kept their questions about his past to themselves. But, if he was seen walking around wearing a shirt drenched in in his own blood like it was nothing, then that would get people's curiosity and they would start talking. It would be safer for everyone else not to know who he was. There was no telling if there were people out there looking for a living Jack Morrison. The last thing Jack wanted—what he could not stand—was to see people getting hurt because of him. This was also the reason he'd decided to avoid leaving the temple if possible, which was easy enough, as there weren't many reasons as to why someone would leave in the first place.

They eventually made their way to Jack's room. The floor had been cleaned at some point. The small lights on Mondatta's forehead blinked, almost as if he found it amusing. He explained that while Jack continued meditating, Zenyatta cleaned the room before looking for him to report the situation. Mondatta had Jack sit on the bed and take off the bloodied shirt while he searched for something clean the old soldier could wear.

"I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble, Mondatta," Jack said as he tried to get comfortable on the bed, though the task proved difficult when someone else was doing such a simple task for him. "It's frustrating having to rely on others so much even for the small stuff."

"You may not like it, Seventy-Six, but you are still in recovery," Mondatta reminded him, as it'd been done countless times in the past. "Though they may not happen as often, it seems that the episodes you do experience are becoming harder for you to handle by yourself. You must learn to rely on others as much as you allow them to rely on you."

Mondatta was wrong. He still experienced the same amount of episodes that he did when he first woke up. The difference was that he knew how to hide most of them, especially the mild ones. He'd done so since the Enhancement Program. They never went away, he simply learned to find ways to escape them. During the Omnic Crisis, it was being with Ana. After that, it was sinking himself into work, not allowing his mind to take dark turns. Now, even having Ana back, things were different. He could not handle them the same way he did before, which was why he'd asked Zenyatta to teach him how to meditate.

Jack must have been unintentionally showing some of his hesitation, for Mondatta took the silence for what it was. Jack was hiding something. Offering Jack a clean shirt, Mondatta turned to look out the window, leaning his hands on the ledge of the window. "Given your position in the past, I take it you know why my brothers and I came here of all places?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "It's an isolated place where the nearest human communities would not bother coming you, despite being easily accessible if they had the strength to do the trek. With how omnics are treated in most places, Numbani would have been the logical choice, with it having the best Human-Omnic relations in the world. But you wouldn't get much peace in a city."

Mondatta chuckled before he nodded, still looking out the window. "As expected of you, Seventy-Six. You are correct… for the most part. In truth, there was something else here that we sought. I'm not surprised to hear that you did not know. The world didn't know. The only record of their existence was a single record in a medical center in India, as they were sent here as aid."

"There was someone here you wanted to meet?" That was strange. From the reports Jack had read, the temple was abandoned for years before the Shambali took over. No one was supposed to be living there until the Shambali appeared. It was hard to believe that such a detail would escape Overwatch and the world for so long.

"That is correct. Believe it or not, my brother, Zenyatta, was here long before any of us decided to make the journey here. He was brought to the temple to take care of the monks decaying health and as well as the structural integrity of the temple itself, as the monks' health proved to be a challenge for them to take care of anything other than themselves. They were old, you see. Old and forgotten by their communities. And when they knew that no other human would venture to the temple, they resigned themselves to live as best they could."

"They didn't object to having an omnic take care of them? Most people born before the omnic war have always been more cautious of omnics."

"A good question. I did not know these monks personally. They all passed away long before we came here. But Zenyatta tells me that they grew past their hatred, or so they would tell him. Everyone that entered the temple was seen as an equal, no matter their origin. It was the creed they followed. This also extended to Zenyatta. To them, he was not an omnic, but one part of the whole."

That explained where Zenyatta had learned all about meditation. He was also the one that always felt more like a monk from the community. Jack wondered what inspired Zenyatta to join in the teachings of the monk instead of keeping to his task, but that answer could only be found by asking the omnic himself. He made a note to do so in the future. "What about the Iris? Zenyatta told me that he learned about it through his meditation. Does that mean that the monks taught him of it?"

"I believe they craved an apprentice. Each one of them had gathered the knowledge of a lifetime of training, which was handed down to them by their predecessors. They were willing to teach and Zenyatta was willing to learn. However, their teachings did not extend to the Iris, from what I understand. That name came only after we came here and he taught us what he knew.

"The monks had a different name for what they saw, as they each saw it in a different shape that attuned to their psyche. For some, it was an animal or an object, for others, a man or woman. As for us omnics, we could all see the same thing. It is shapeless, only emitting a glow that revitalizes you. It was through a consensus that we named it the Iris.

"A name is not something that allows others to make a connection, Seventy-Six. But in the greater scheme of things, it matters. You humans have had numerous gods throughout your history. Just look at ancient Greece and Rome. Their gods were almost identical, yet, they had different names. Ares and Mars, Helios and Apollo, Athena and Minerva. In the end, it is not about a name, but about what it represents."

"If Zenyatta was the one that taught you all this, sounds to me like he should've been made the leader of the Shambali. No offense."

Mondatta chuckled as he turned to look at Jack. "Worry not, as I thought the same thing, but Zenyatta refused back then. He had his own duty, you see. Despite the monks' deaths, he was still keeping the temple in pristine condition. I believe that he no longer does it because it was a task assigned to him, but because he wants to protect the final resting place of his teachers. He could feel indebted to them, or perhaps he thinks of this place like his home. I do not know his reason. But after he declined, my name was the one that came next. And so, here I stand. And to this day, despite our disagreements, I still ask for his advice, be it for spiritual guidance or for what we should do next. Zenyatta is an excellent teacher, you will find."

Jack's eyes narrowed. Mondatta was sneaky. Maybe too sneaky for his own good. "I get it. You're saying I should rely on the community more. I get it, I do, but—"

Mondatta shook his head. "Your circumstances are different, Seventy-Six. Though many of the people here, omnic and human alike, abandoned their previous lives to come here and work together for a better future, you did not have a choice. Jack Morrison died, and so you were born. Your new beginning is something not many in this world will be able to experience or understand.

"You should rely on Zenyatta, for he will help set your soul and mind on the right path for you, be that whichever it may be. He will help you deal with your present and prepare you for your future.

"You should rely on Ana Amari, for she will help set your heart and body at ease. She is your connection to your past. She will anchor you to your present and aid you find your future. And perhaps most importantly, her circumstances are very similar to yours, Seventy-Six. She's gone through many of the trials you've faced and are yet to face.

"You should rely on me, for even leaders can be blinded by the greater picture of things. I will protect your past, for you are not that man anymore. I will remind you of your present, for you must endure the hardships that come your way. And I will push you to your future, for you may not know that the world still needs people like you to defend it.

"As for the rest, I will leave it to your discretion to confide and rely on them or not. It is your decision to make. Whatever you decide, I will not stop you." Mondatta walked over to the door, pushing it open. The light outside was almost blinding, making Jack flinch and scrunch up his nose at its brightness. Thankfully, his optics adapted quickly, as he made to stand. "Now come. We mustn't keep the others waiting. I believe Zenyatta and Ana will be at the dining hall, ready to break their fast."

With some effort, Jack stood up. His hands instinctively went for the crutches he'd been using moments ago. He held them in his hands, looking down on them, before he set them aside and walked out the door. It was time to move forward.


	5. Chapter 5

When was the last time he had the chance to sit down to read a newspaper? It had to be years ago, maybe during the early years of Overwatch, before they started the recruiting effort. Life was too busy for him to get enough time to read through a single article. Usually Cayde or his assistant would let him know if there was something he needed to be concerned about. Otherwise, it was a waste of time. So to sit down outside a cafe while reading a newspaper wasn't something Jack was familiar with at all, not even before he enlisted in the army.

It felt like a perfect day. The skies were clear. It was just cold enough that it was comfortable to go outside wearing a jacket or coat. The air was clean, which was surprise. And there wasn't much noise to complain about. All in all, it was a strange experience for someone that had a chaotic life for most of his life like Jack. Even while in Nepal, things weren't _this_ perfect. But it wasn't as if he was wasting his time with the newspaper. No, there was a reason for him to read it, and more importantly, to be outside a coffeeshop in big city in Germany.

Less than sixteen hours prior, Mondatta had informed him, Ana, and Zenyatta of some reports on an old Bastion unit being sighted in the forest near Eichenwald. The town had been abandoned shortly after the end of the Omnic Crisis, making it a go-to spot for urban explorers. The problem was, these explorers had close calls with the alleged combat omnic. All the reports had been filled by the Stuttgart Police Department, but the claims were never investigated much further than the outskirt of the forest. The police concluded that the sightings were likely the imagination of the people given the number of non-active Basiton units that still littered the area. Mondatta, though, thought that where there was smoke, there would be fire. Given that his mission was to make peace between humans and omnics, he wanted the Bastion unit to be brought back to Nepal to be taught the ways of peace in an effort to prevent any further incidents with humans. Given that the only ones with combat experience against omnics, or any at all for that matter, were Jack and Ana, they were pushed to take on the task while Zenyatta would provide support from Nepal.

Neither Jack nor Ana were foolish enough to go out there and galavanting around. Their faces were too well known to spent more time outside than what was absolutely necessary. The two of them had to come up with disguises that would keep attention off of them. For Jack, it was easy. He hadn't shaved his beard nor gotten his usual hair cut since he woke up in the monastery. Add to that the scars, optics, and the broken nose and it would fool most people. But in case they weren't fooled by that, Yera and Susan provided him with what they insisted was a "perfect disguise". Maybe it worked too, because it made Jack feel like an ass. Wayfarer sunglasses, a flat cap, a big scarf, and a wool trench coat. He was half sure they were pulling his leg when they brought it all to him and then told him that it suited him, but he had no choice than to go with it considering he didn't have any clothes back there that would work as a disguise—he always did favor comfort and practicality over style.

Jack was on edge. Ever since he sat down, he'd been hearing a small group of people talking about him. Or at least he assumed they were talking about him. Not taking more German lessons from Reinhardt was something he was regretting. He was sure they noticed him, at the very least. Their eyes would turn to him every now and again, but would turn away after a few seconds, likely pretending they weren't looking. He would glance back at them from behind his shades too, without any of them noticing. No one in the group looked particularly dangerous. But since when did only dangerous people carry guns with them? Lena had to be one of the least-dangerous looking people out there, and she always carried two pistols with her in those inconvenient arm holsters of hers.

"You look thoughtful," said Ana as she approached him from behind. Now, she actually looked good in her disguise. The long hair she always left hanging loosely down her back had been braided. Her tattoo was gone thanks to the magic of makeup. She also wore a hat, though hers was more of a loose beanie, another of Susan's ideas. Susan thought it would be fun if they both wore matching scarfs too... Overall, Ana looked beautiful in a different way than she usually did with her uniform. She sat to his right on the square table, plopping down a cardboard cup of coffee in front of Jack. "Seen anything yet?"

"Eight o'clock," he told her as he lifted the cup. Coffee, black. She took a sip of her tea and looked in the direction Jack called. "They've been talking about me for a while now. I'm not sure what they are on about. Got any idea what 'dilf' means? Never heard Reinhardt say that before."

Ana slowly parted her lips from her cup, setting it down on the table as she stared at Jack. Her face was blank, but as the seconds ticked it changed into more of a smirk. "That's a word I never thought I would hear anyone use to describe you," she said, shaking her head. "You can't be serious. You've never heard that word being used before?"

When Jack's only response was lifting an eyebrow, she sighed. She started fixing his tie suddenly, which was strange, but Jack didn't necessarily mind it. What surprised him was when she pulled him by it towards her. Her lips always made him go crazy, even if it a single kiss. This one lasted for a few seconds. There was nothing much to it, it was just a chaste kiss, but when they separated, she smiled cockily at him before turning to look at the group of people that had been watching him. She smiled at them and even waved before whispering in his ear. "I'll _show_ you what it means," she said as she stood up and extended a hand towards him. "We should go."

They'd found a cheap lodging near the outskirt of the city. It was a building that didn't stand out more than it was necessary. No questions asked, cash only. It was perfect. And that's where the two of them ended up. They were just outside the door when Ana lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and running her hands through his hair as she ravaged his lips. It was something they hadn't done in a long time, but they fell naturally into a pace they were both comfortable with. Jack struggled getting the door open, and was thankful there was no one around to see them like that.

With the door closed behind them, clothes began to hit the floor. Their hats, their matching scarfs, and their coats were quickly discarded, neither of them separating more than a second to do so before continuing their kiss. Instead of going through the trouble of unbuttoning his shirt, Jack pulled it all over his head once the first two buttons were undone, throwing it to a side before Ana pushed him on the bed.

"If this is what a dilf is, I like it," Jack teased as he threw his sunglasses onto the nightstand, eliciting a laugh from Ana. When she straddled him, that was when he knew she wasn't kidding around with where things were going. In a swift move, she took off her blouse and threw it over to the increasing pile of clothes on the floor. For a moment neither of them moved, Jack enjoying the view. The pale brassiere she was wearing contrasted nicely with her sun-kissed skin. The scars on her body, though not as many as his, still showed her years in the military. He'd seen them all before. He'd even seen her getting most of them. Ana was a soldier. There were also some stretch marks around her abdomen. Those he also knew where they came from. Ana was a mother. And though all these imperfections on her skin would normally be seen as ugly, Jack loved them because they showed that this wasn't a girl, but a woman well grown. Even in her early fifties, women half her age would be lucky if they looked anything near as good as she did.

Jack laid his hands on her thighs, running them over ever so slowly up until he went over her hips and then her waist. He pulled her down to him, to feel those lips of hers again. She closed her eyes and so did he. There was nothing chaste about this kiss. It was raw passion. One of his hands travelled up her back, leaving behind it a small trail of goosebumps on her skin as he reached the strap of her— The sound of the communication device they'd been given by Zenyatta went off. Jack mentally cursed the omnic for his timing. They could ignore him, pretend they didn't notice or weren't in the room when it went off. For a moment it seemed like Ana was thinking the same thing as she continued kissing Jack, but after a few seconds, they both knew that they would have to stop.

"We'll call him back after," Jack said in disappointment when she sat back on his lap, looking at the computer on the desk. She looked between him and the computer a couple of times, as if she was trying to see if the ringing would stop, but when it didn't, she got off of him. Jack let out a frustrated grunt.

"You should be used to it by now, Jack," said Ana, who'd already picked up her blouse and was walking over to the computer. "It just like old times, no? We can continue where we left off after we deal with this."

Jack would've been more pleased by it all if she hadn't said those last words. Ana wasn't stupid. She must've caught onto his silence. The silence between the two was almost as deafening as the ringing of the comm. Without a word, Jack stood up and walked over to the computer too. She'd already taken a sit on the chair, so that left him to be the one standing on the side. Before Ana could say anything to him—and it looked like she wanted to—Jack answered the call.

The holoscreen switched to a live video of Zenyatta, who was sitting by his lonesome self. He looked between Jack and Ana for a second before asking, "am I interrupting something?"

"Yes, actually." Ana was one to always joke around to alleviate situations. Zenyatta had to know what was going on in there between the two ex-operatives given Jack's missing shirt and their disheveled hair. "We were just having a little—"

"It's fine, Zenyatta," Jack interrupted. "We haven't found out much on our end yet. We know of an approximate area where the Bastion unit could be, but it'll take some time to find it with just the two of us working on it. Any luck on your end?"

"...Yes. I was able to track down a signal matching those transmitted by Bastion units during the Omnic Crisis as you suggested. It seems that our Bastion has made a home out of what is left of Eichenwald, but I can not pinpoint it's exact location. We do not know for how long Bastion has been there for either. We must assume that it has resupplied its ammunition and is ready for combat once again."

"Understood. Try to get a better reading on its location. Last thing I want is to go in there and be caught with my pants down my ankles, especially with no way to defend ourselves."

"Very well, Seventy-Six. I will call back once I have done so."

"You do that." With another press of the button, the call ended and the holoscreen went blank. Jack took the opportunity to walk back to the bed. He sat down with a thud, the springs on the old mattress squeaking under his weight. He knew what was coming, so he wanted to get over with it as soon as possible. They'd been back together for well over a year, and yet, they'd never talked about the elephant in the room, despite it being so huge. Ignoring it made it possible for them to pretend they stood on the same ground they once did. A time that seemed so far away now. But things had changed. No longer were they the same people that they were back then. She wasn't Ana Amari, but Janina Kowalska. He wasn't Jack Morrison, but a man with no better name for himself other than a number.

He ran his hands down his face as he hunched over. They would need to get things out in the open now. He could see that the same thought was running through Ana's mind. She had her side leaning on the back of the chair, her face pointing in his direction, but her eye avoiding him like the plague.

"Those were the exact same words you last said to me back then," he began, their eyes finally meeting. "And I mean _me_ , not your Strike-Commander. We were in your quarters when the call came for the mission. You left the room saying those exact same words, not giving me an answer."

"I'd told you about everything that had been on my mind. How I couldn't stand going into the battlefield anymore. How each life I took killed me a little more inside," she looked down for a second, her lips pressed together hard before smiling slightly. "You told me that you had a good solution for me to get out of the battlefield. You got on your knee, pulled out a ring, and proposed. If we married, I would be moved from working under you and removed from the field. I would still help train our snipers, but it would give me peace of mind, or so you said."

"I proposed to you for the third time," he corrected. "The first time around, you said 'yes', even wore the ring for a few days. Didn't even get the chance to tell the others about it before I was given command of Overwatch, and you gave me back the ring and walked away. What was it you said again? 'The world needs Jack Morrison and Ana Amari more than Jack and Ana Morrison'? Think that's about how you put it."

There was no malicious intent behind his words. Ana even chuckled a little bit. "That does sound like me."

"The second time was when you told me you were pregnant. I was shocked to hear it. We'd were more careful about it back then than during the Omnic Crisis. Didn't see it coming. But I was a little glad too. I was selfish and always wanted a family of my own. But when I proposed, your answer was 'it's not yours' and you walked away again." He could hear how her breathing hitched. One of her hands had slowly gone up to her good eye, covering it. "I couldn't blame anyone but myself for it. How could I blame you? We were never officially going out. I remember Reyes and even Reinhardt calling _me_ old-fashioned for pinning after you so hard. I still hoped, though… When Fareeha was born, I tried to see any trace of myself in her, but found nothing. She got everything all her looks from you, that's for sure."

"And you treated her very well. Maybe better than a father would their child…"

"It was hard at first. I couldn't bring myself to look at her for too long. But who can be cold or distant to a doe-eyed child like her? I just gave in, in the end. She hadn't done anything wrong either. I couldn't bring myself to not love her too… Even after you...disappeared, I tried my best to be there for her. We all did. It wasn't easy. She blamed me as much as she blamed you for what happened. Said I should've done more for you. For two years, she didn't talk to me. But after she started speaking to me again, she would try to call every week. I was pretty happy about it too. It was like—"

"She's your daughter, Jack." He stopped to look at her, not sure if his ears were failing him now. His jaw hung low as he processed what she'd just said. Ana gave him a sad and longing smile in return. "Who's else could it be? You weren't the only one old-fashioned, you know. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I had to tell you. But then, I realised that with both of us as her parents, there would be certain things expected out of her that I did not want for her. She would be forced to walk the same path we did, feeling that she needed to follow on our footsteps. I grew up like that too. With parents that are in the military comes the idea that you must do the same. We worked so hard for peace, Jack. We dedicated our lives to it. I did not want her to have to do the same. And besides… the world needed Strike-Commander Jack Morrison and Sub-Commander Ana Amari, not Jack, Ana, and Fareeha Morrison…"

Jack sat up before his back gave out, making him fall back first on the bed. He massaged his temples. Fareeha was his daughter...? Had Ana told Mondatta about it? That would explain what he'd said to Jack when he first woke up. The soldier wasn't sure how to take the news. On the one hand, he was happy that the girl he'd taken care of was his own. He'd always been proud of her and the woman she became. It also went to show that Ana cared enough about him and what they had before. But on the other, how much had he missed of Fareeha growing up because he didn't know sooner? The girl was tormented by not knowing who her father was when she was younger. He didn't get a chance to experience many things fathers are supposed to, nor help Ana more with being a parent.

"I need a drink," he muttered, mostly to himself, gently massaging his temples. He couldn't see Ana's expression anymore from that angle, which he was glad for. Too bad they didn't have anything for him to drink in there but water. He'd even finished his coffee before they entered the building. Not that it mattered. The artificial liver he'd gotten and whatever he was injected with during the enhancement program would keep him from feeling anything more than a light buzz. "Does Fareeha know?"

"She… suspected as much when she was younger. She told me that she'd seen us kissing a few times. I wanted to tell her the truth, I really did, Jack. But she was a child. She would run up to you, calling you 'father'. We would be forced to retire for maintaining an illicit relationship. So I told the the same lie I told you back then…"

"At least I got to watch her grow," he said. "Most wouldn't get that chance..."

"You should be angry. You should be yelling… Why are you so calm about this?"

"There is no point in getting angry about the past. It won't change anything."

"You've been talking with Zen too much."

Jack shrugged. "He tries his best to teach me what he can, when I'm not being stubborn." He was thankful to the omnic for that. If he'd heard the news before that, his reaction would have been very different, he gathered. Ana not telling his this sooner was definitely selfish of her, but it wasn't as if he didn't understand her reasoning. Not only that, but the US government would be too interested in her too, and not for her military career. There hadn't been any other cases of Enhanced Soldiers having children, mainly because most of those soldiers died too young. But if someone found about Fareeha… Jack shuddered at the thought. "You made the right choice, Ana. I may not like it, but it was best for Fareeha that I'm not her father."

The bed lowered slightly as Ana joined him in bed. Her upper half was hovering over him with her hands laying flat against the mattress just over his shoulders. She was analyzing him with her amber eye as he did the same with his electric blue optics. That was one of the only times since before the Omnic Crisis that he didn't know what she was thinking. He couldn't read her at all. He suddenly wished he could see her tattoo again, as if that would help him read into her expression better.

"It's not too late, Jack," her voice was soothing. No longer did she seem to be in pain. She was trying to extend an olive branch of sorts, to see where they stood. It was risking to communicate with anyone from their previous lives. It could put them in danger.

"You want to tell Fareeha?" he asked for confirmation.

"I can send her a letter, explaining everything. It may take her some time to understand everything, but she will know the truth. Your parents too. We've are getting old, Jack. Our better days are past us. If we wait too long, we could miss the opportunity."

A letter made sense. If sent correctly, it would be untraceable so long as it wasn't intercepted. But then, who would be looking for a letter anymore? Everything was done online. More convenient that way, even if it left behind a trail that was easily trackable. A letter…

"I also meant your proposal," she continued, making Jack rise slightly in confusion. "Three times you proposed to me. I never said no. That last time you proposed? I wanted to go on one last mission to confirm what I felt. Had things turned out better… I don't want to let the chance slips past me again, especially after we've postponed it for so lon—"

Jack couldn't hold himself back anymore. He twisted them around so that she would be the one under him. She only smiled at him as he was now the one looking down at her, not surprised in the slightest by the action. He pressed his lips against hers, enjoying the way she kissed him back and wrapped her hands around his neck once more. He broke off from the kiss only for a second to say, "I don't have the ring on me."

She snickered. "Like I care." She pulled him back down to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her blouse just like he had done before. The movement was too slow for her. She ended up taking it off herself. But history had a strange way of repeating itself. Not sooner had the blouse touched the ground than the comm started ringing again. Jack gave an annoyed growl as he tried his best to ignore it. But as the seconds passed and it kept on ringing, it was getting harder to ignore it. He pulled back enough to turn to look at the damn thing on the desk, but Ana pulled him back down to her. "Ignore it. We'll call him back after"


	6. Chapter 6

Going from stories Jack had heard secondhand only from the like of Reinhardt and other Crusaders that he'd met during the Omnic Crisis, Eichenwalde was a thing to behold. It was rich in culture, be it music, art, good, or drink. Good, generous people lived there and always did their best to make things better for the Crusaders that protected the town. It was meant to be a place that would go untouched by the war, given how many civilians called the town their home. However, that was not to be.

Where there once had been homes and stores now only laid shells of their former selves. No surface had gone without damage when the omnics attacked. Walls riddled with bullet holes, brown stains of dry blood, houses that had tumbled after receiving too much damage, and bullet casings littering the streets painted a grim picture of what had happened more than twenty years ago. The glimmer of hope he could see where the numerous notices plastered on every single door and window that still remained, telling the citizens to leave the area for an impending attack. But people were stubborn, no matter where they were from. How many had stayed behind? How many had died? As Jack and Ana made their way around town, he could see a toy store and its products in a few of the houses they would check out.

It was haunting to walk around, trying their best not to disturb anything. Detroit had suffered a similar fate, but the feelings he got from there and Eichenwalde were completely different somehow. This was the type of place one would go to to retire or raise a family. It had a "homely" feel to it that was impossible to get in the city. So it was that the defenders of the town became its doom. Would the omnics bother with a place like this if it wasn't a station for Crusaders? Eventually they would. Then again, because the Crusaders stopped the omnics here, Stuttgart would have been taken before the German Army could defend it.

Jack pushed all thoughts aside as they entered yet another building. So far, they hadn't even heard so much as a leaf falling on the ground. It was quite literally a ghost town. In the end, Zenyatta wasn't able to get a better read on the Bastion unit's exact location. That meant that Ana and Jack needed to check every single building, which was taking a lot more time given that there were fresh tracks and disturbances on the dust just about everywhere. The building they were in was a small instrument shop. There were guitar on one wall, a variety of wind instruments on another, bandoneons of all kinds close to the door, and pianos lined up side by side on the back of the store. Ana had gone upstairs, while Jack checked the first level. There wasn't much for him to investigate. Apart from some of the instruments showing signs that they'd been handled recently, there was nothing more for him to go off of.

He walked towards one of the pianos, laying his fingers on exposed keys that had yellowed over the years. Jack quickly learned that they were in working condition as he slowly pressed down on a single key. The humming faded out after a few seconds, leaving Jack to think about how out of tune the piano was just as Ana made her way downstairs.

"It's been some time since I last heard you play," she said as she joined him by the piano.

"The guitar was more my thing. Reinhardt liked playing the piano. He was much better, especially at the bar. Quite a hit with everyone." The two of them smiled at the memory. Jack could still picture those days. Even during the Omnic Crisis, Reinhardt would always do one thing or another to try and lighten up the atmosphere. That was especially helpful when they had some down time, which was mostly spent drinking their sorrows away. Sometimes Jack would join in with a guitar and they would play a tune. Gabriel, Torbjorn, and Ana would join in to sing. Liao, well, she was too young to be drinking, so she usually spent her time fiddling with her camera instead. "Got us kicked out a couple of times too."

Ana chuckled, most likely already recalling the many times it happened. It was nice to remember those memories over thinking about everything else that happened during that time. Unfortunately, they had to move on. The building was cleared, and so they moved to the next, which happened to be the local tavern. There, right smack in the middle of the place, two rusty Bastions' remains were resting over some of the tables. Not even the tavern had been spared by the attack. The only thing that seemed out of place there were the small bouquets of flowers that were laid on top of the units.

"You think our guy did that?" Jack found himself asking as he examined the flowers. They were all from around the area. On their way to Eichenwalde, they'd seen many of their kind around the forest, and the closer they got to the center of town, destroyed Bastions and Walkers were also becoming more common to see.

"I don't think anyone else would leave flowers for a Bastion. Most people first saw them when they attacked," Ana reminded him as she leaned in on the bar to see what was on the other side. Jack wanted to point out that there was no way an omnic that size would hide from view behind a bar, but he was waved over by Ana before he had the chance. "Come take a look at this."

"Found something?" Jack walked to her side. He was expecting her to show her something, preferably a gun that had been left behind, but instead, she pointed at the bar itself. He looked at the worn out wood covered in dust, then at Ana, and then back at the surface. Ana sighed, cleaning up the wood with her sleeve. Reinhardt's name had been carved onto the bar. "Must've been his favorite spot to sit."

"He had a bad habit of doing it in our Watchpoints," Ana said, smiling fondly at Jack, who seemed surprised. "No one noticed until much later. I wonder if he still does it."

 _One day we can ask him_. Jack wanted to say those words, but it was unlikely that they would ever see their friend again. With everything that had happened, it would be impossible to get anywhere near the Crusader without bringing attention to themselves, which meant someone would find out that they weren't actually dead like they were supposed to be. _Too dangerous… but maybe someday._

They'd reached the town at dawn, and they had come up with no clue as to the location of the active Bastion unit. It was possible that from when Zenyatta first found out of its location to the point they reached the town, it could've left, losing itself in the woods. The sun was barely visible over the treetops anymore. The idea of spending a night in the town was unpleasant, considering everything that had happened there. Jack wasn't superstitious, but it didn't feel right to sleep in a place many called their last resting place. But thankfully, there would be no need for that, as they noticed something looking at them from atop the castle walls when they reached the bell tower in the middle of town.

Jack squinted, trying to get a better look. If it didn't move, he would've taken it as just another Bastion unit in town, but it was the fact that it kept moving its hand towards a bird that caught Ana and Jack's attention. The Bastion had the vantage point—with high ground and its weapons, if it started firing, they wouldn't stand much of a chance. As if hearing his thought, the Bastion turned its head slowly down towards them. There the three of them stood—four counting the bird that stood on the omnic's finger and chirped—as if waiting for another to make the first move. To be honest, Jack wasn't sure how they were supposed to proceed from there. He was glad to see that the Bastion in question was a recon unit. It was equipped with only one submachine gun instead of the usual two while in recon mode, but that was still one gun too many.

The light on the omnic's head started flickering from blue to red. That was an instant warning. Neither Jack nor Ana had to be told what would happen next. They'd fought the things too many times before during the Omnic Crisis to doubt their instinct of throwing themselves to cover behind the bell tower. Just as they entered its shadow, the bullets began whistling in the air. Guessing by the sound of them hitting the stone and concrete of the tower, the target was still in recon mode.

"How are we supposed to go against that thing?!" Jack asked Ana as they tried to stick as close to the ground as possible. Fragments of the wall behind them were falling on their shoulders and back, covering the body armor they'd been provided with—black for Ana and white for Jack—in a thin layer of dust. "Are we supposed to talk? I can barely hear myself talk as it is!"

"We don't have many options, Jack. We might as well give it a try." The two waited as the lead kept coming their way. When the firing stopped, likely so that the target could reload, Ana took her chance. She stood up and waved a hand out of cover, something that made all sorts of alarms go off in Jack's mind, but he had to grit his teeth and let her try. Ana's voice echoed enough that the target would have to hear her. "We mean no harm! We came here to talk with you!"

For a moment, to the surprised of both of them, it seemed that Ana's plan worked. It had enough time to reload and start shooting again, but it didn't happen. Still, Ana and Jack were both reluctant to get out of cover to face the target. It was a good step in the right direction… Until the familiar sound of it going into sentry two of them were forced to lay down on the ground completely. Jack tried to cover Ana with an arm, but if a bullet hit, it would easily go through his arm and her back.

"That backfired horribly," he told her as more and more chunks of wall came off and landed around them or on them. "Any other bright ideas?"

The Bastion unit stopped firing for what had to be no longer than a couple of seconds before it continued firing. For whatever reason, it was hell bent to kill them. It went with accordance to how Jack remembered them being during the Omnic Crisis. He'd seen his comrades being torn to shreds all around him by those things. The omnics didn't show mercy, nor would they ever back down even if one was to surrender themselves. Only the sound of a loud cracking broke him out. He turned back to look at the tower they were using as cover. It wasn't looking good. Any second it could collapse, burying the two ex-Overwatch operatives under the rubble. Jack lived through that experience once already, he wasn't about to let himself go through it again.

"We need to retreat," Jack told Ana. He pointed towards one of the buildings to their front-left. It looked like one of the least damaged one, showing few bullet holes on its facade. "We'll need to split up. You go to that building and I'll go to the left. I'm faster than you are, so I'll go first to act as a distraction. We know these buildings all have back doors, so we can meet up without entering the line of fire."

"I don't think splitting up is the best idea," Ana argued. "You are putting yourself in unnecessary risk, Jack!"

"We tried it your way," Jack kneeled, still trying to get as low to the ground, but getting ready to break into a sprint when the right moment showed itself. "Now we try mine." His words had a finality to them that reminded him of his time back at Overwatch. How many times had he given similar orders to others? Though he always instilled in new recruits that they shouldn't needlessly put themselves at risk, he did it all too often. But, in Jack's case, it always worked, be it because of luck, the Soldier Enhancement Program, or maybe because he always had a knack for reading the field. Ana had to know as well, for she fell silent and reluctantly followed Jack's lead. His hand was still on her back. Ana was no rookie, but giving someone a nudge as the order was given to move wouldn't hurt.

Through the sounds of whistling bullets and shattering concrete and stone, Jack's able to hear the 'click' of Bastion's ammo clip when the last bullet was fired. They only have a couple of seconds before it reloads, so he gives the signal to move. He's able to take no more than four steps out of cover when it starts shooting at him. He barely outran the fire, flinging himself against one of the windows on the building as to enter, given that he wouldn't have time to kick in a door. The glass shattered, allowing him entry. Had he not been wearing the special clothes given to him and Ana, some of the glass would've surely left a few cuts on him. The shooting stops once again. Thankfully, Ana made it out of there too. He could see her pressed against one of the walls of her building.

Suddenly the bell tower began to crumble down. The ground shook as the building collapsed, and the sound of the bell hitting the floor and bouncing left Jack's ears ringing. That seemed to be enough for the Bastion, as it sounded like it went back to Recon mode. Some faint beeping was going on when Jack turned on his comms device.

"That was close," Ana said, looking at him from across the street. "You know, for a man _your_ age, you can still run very well, Jack."

"Must be all that stuff they pumped into me," Jack responded, not able to control the small smirk he was showing her. There was a good reason there hadn't been any talk to force him to stop entering the field back when he was still in Overwatch. Even Reinhardt's retirement was something that was a topic that came up a few years before it actually happened, and Jack fought against it for as long as he could, knowing that the man would never set down his armor if it wasn't on his own terms. "But enough screwing around. There's a mission to get done. Let's regroup and think of a better way to do this."

"As you say, _Commander_." Jack grunted as he rolled his eyes. Ana in turn laughed before heading towards the back of the building. Without having to worry about their well being, he took a better look at his surroundings. Though most of the lower levels of buildings around the town seemed to be dedicated to stores, this one was a house. The place looked like it probably did all those years ago before the Omnics attacked, minus the thick layer of dust covering every surface, of course. It was haunting. A newspaper laid crumbled up besides a recliner. A half empty glass of (muddy) water still sat neatly on top of a small coffee table. An unfinished sweater barely hung from the side of the couch. And some toys laid across the fireplace.

It was an all too familiar scene. How many times had he found himself in a similar place before? Dozens, at least. The pictures that hung on the wall told him everything he needed to know about the people that lived there. A couple that married young and started their family quickly, by the looks. Two daughters. A dog, though guessing by the small urn resting on top of the fireplace, it died at some point. It was all too familiar. It was what he wanted for himself. But that was before becoming a soldier. And he was glad he did, because had he married during the Omnic Crisis, then who's to say someone wouldn't have found themselves in his home, staring at the same scene, except the pictures on the wall would be of the Morrisons?

The middle-aged man closed his eyes, obscuring the room with the lack of the faint light coming from his optics. One deep, long breath was all it took. Had he found himself there only a few months before, would've he been able to control himself? Even when the Bastion shot at them, not once did he lose control. Then again, he'd always been able to keep himself calm in the battlefield. They may not have guns, but this too was a battlefield. Jack opened his eyes and reminded himself he had to keep moving.

The two humans were able to meet again a few minutes later. Their first move was to check if the target had changed positions while they weren't looking. Being careful not to be spotted in case it still held the high ground, Jack peeked from behind a corner. "It's clear," he informed her. "Could be searching for us."

"Or it could be looking to resupply," she suggested, which was true. With the amount of shots fired, its ammunition stock would be low. If it found ammo before, it would do it again. "Let's head to its last position for now."

Jack allowed her to take the lead. "And if we find it up there?"

"As I recall, you once fought one of them with your bare hands."

"I was in my twenties back then. Broke a few knuckles and fractured two fingers too, in case you forgot." Not because he had more strength, agility, and stamina than a normal human did it mean his body could withstand more punishment than an average man. His bones were not something out of comicbook—replaced by "adamantium" like that Wolverine fellow. The fact that what happened in Zurich left him clinging to life by a thread should've been proof enough of that.

Ana chuckled. "Ah, yes. I remember patching you up afterwards." They took a turn as they reached a set of stairs that would bring them up over the wall. "All but Reinhardt and Reyes thought it was a stupid move on your part. Reinhardt loved to tell that story to new recruits."

"Did he?" Jack asked, only half listening. They still needed to be alert, and with Ana already looking out for danger on their front, it was up to him to make sure they were covered on the back and sides. So far, there was no sign of the target. It was as if it vanished in an instant. It wasn't for nothing that the Ombiums produced Reckon units. The level of stealth they used couldn't be compared to that of an assault Bastion. "That explains why Tracer always bugged me to show her a few moves. I thought she was talking about boxing…"

It would've been impossible to miss the spot the target had been shooting at them from. Hundreds of bullet casings littered the floor to the point of almost covering it entirely. Some of the casings had been flattened, likely by the weight of the retreating omnic. Other than those footprints, there was nothing more for them to see. Jack moved past the spot, but stopped soon after when he didn't hear Ana following behind. Turning around, he found her staring at something over the edge of the wall, and guessing from the lack of shooting, it wasn't likely that she was looking at their target. "Found something?"

"There a bird's nest here," she told him, her brow furrowed as she kept staring downwards. Was she really stopping for a _nest_? "There are some eggs in it. It wasn't a spot a bird would make a nest on. It's barely holding on."

Why was she suddenly so worried about a birds nest? Jack leaned over the ledge to take a look himself. Sure enough, there it was. A nest that had most of it's weight balanced between the wall and a flag pole. Nothing special about it. "Forget about it. We need to keep moving unless we want to turn into Swiss cheese."

Clearly ignoring him, Ana leaned further out, most of her weight now on her stomach, which was on top of the ledge. Leaning any further would put _her_ in danger. Jack took a quick look around to make sure they were clear. Ana was already reaching out a hand to reach the damned thing. "Ana, leave it be. We have more important things to worry about right now."

"The bird that laid those eggs wouldn't put a nest there," she began, her words coming out hoarse as she struggled to speak. "No mother would risk the life of her own children like that. I saw Bastion had a nest on it before it shot at us. I'm sure that's the nest, Jack! I can't, in good conscious, leave them there when it was our fault they ended up there in the first place."

Jack couldn't believe his ears— On second thought, yeah, he could. Ana had always taken her role as a mother to heart. If there was anyone that would worry about something so small as a bird _possibly_ losing its eggs, it would be Ana. _Stubborn woman!_ Taking a look around once again, this time, Jack spotted their target by the glowing red light on its head. He cursed under his breath, knowing that Ana wouldn't back down now. Seeing that she wouldn't be able to reach the nest, she went over to her and grabbed her, one hand on her belt and another on the back of her body armor. "You better make it fast, 'cuz now we really might end up as Swiss cheese!"

Instead of pulling, he gave her some extra reach by holding onto her weight and leaning her further out. He can't quite see where she is trying to reach in his current position, so he moved around according to Ana's instructions. He clenches his jaw as he has to lower her even more. This wouldn't be good on his back, especially with that things they'd put on his spine. Ana would always be the first one to tell him to take it easy. Funny how that didn't matter as much when they were so close to danger.

"I got it, Jack! Pull me up!" Immediately, Jack pulled her up. If they were quick enough, maybe they could still outrun—

"Bweep. Bweep. Bweep."

Jack felt his skin go cold. Ana was barely safe on the ground and Bastion was already upon them. It walked towards them slowly, weapon held high, aimed directly at Ana. If it'd been a human holding a gun, there would've been a chance for them to disarm take the weapon away or even outrun the gun fire. A Bastion unit? Neither was an option. Jack cursed himself for not looking for a weapon more thoroughly around town—with the town being an old Crusader base, there _had_ to be weapons somewhere. To think he'd survived so long only to be mowed down because of a bird's nest.

But just was about to lose all hope, the small bird he'd seen earlier landed on the barrel of Bastion's gun. The small, yellow bird chirps at Bastion a couple of time, as if calling for its attention. Not really in a position to do anything else, Jack could only look at the interaction between bird and machine unfolding in front of him as he held on to Ana, never really having let go of her belt nor body armor after pulling her up.

Bastion's head lowered to look at the bird, who in turn flaps its wings and skips forward and backwards on the barrel of the gun. After a tense minute or two, the light on the omnic's head flickers between blue and red a few times before landing on blue. This seemingly pleased the bird, who chirped happily before jumping onto the nest in Ana's hands. In response, Bastion extended its hand towards Ana, beeping and booping at her a few times, almost as if asking for her to hand the nest over.

Ana made a move to return it, but Jack pulled her back, not once looking away from the omnic's optic. "Lower your gun first," Jack said.

"We are not here to cause you harm," Ana adds, hoping that it would be enough for Bastion to reconsider. "We just want to talk with you."

Some more beeping later, it lowered the gun. Only then did Jack let go of Ana, who placed the nest in its hand. The bird seemed happy once more, as it chirped at Bastion, who set down the nest on its shoulder before turning to look between Ana and Jack. After even _more_ beeping, Ana interrupts it. "Do you know how Morse code?"

Bastion nods a few times, give out the message for YES.

Jack finally released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding all along, his eyes losing some of their harshness. "We want to talk to you about a safe haven for old soldiers like us."


	7. Chapter 7

There was a lot known about the Shambali, and yet, so little once one really thought about it. Omnics preached about having souls, leaving a life of peace somewhere in the Himalayas. It was a common belief in places like Russia, Australia, and Mexico—places that the hate for omnics never really disappeared—that the omnics had to be planning something. Perhaps they were planning to attack from Nepal. And yet, no one ever investigated the group as the United Nations made it impossible. Even Overwatch had a slim file on them. So, how why was it that _he_ was there?

Genji was not an omnic. Despite his exterior that gave him better mobility than he'd ever had before, he was _not_ an omnic. But then, was he a human? He could barely call himself that anymore. Had his humanity left him as his body had done? Another thing snatched away by his clan? By his _brother_? He was thankful to Overwatch for keeping him alive. He owed Dr. Ziegler his life. Had it not been for her, he would've died years ago. And yet, he cursed her and the organization just as much for making him into… a monstrosity. The ninja had to wonder if how he felt was similar to the experience of Limbo. To him, it certainly felt that way. He was alive, but only because of the machine in him. So, was he truly alive?

With those thoughts in mind and with plenty of hesitation, he went to Nepal. He was looking for answers. No man or woman were able to put his mind at ease, not since the collapse of Overwatch. Back then, even if he left the organization, he was allowed to get appointments with Dr. Ziegler. She kept him grounded just enough for him not to go berserk. Now? There was no one. No doctor to guide him through the transition. No friends that would encourage him and train with him. No _family_ that would help him stand back up if he were to fall. It wasn't the kind of existence the young Shimada wanted, but it was the one he was stuck with.

The temple and the housing surrounding it seemed to be in much better shape than he'd ever expected it to be. From what he knew, the place was run down to the point that no human would take a step there, which had been the reason why omnics took it over. That was wrong, however. Every single building had gone through many repairs, as was evident by the fresh coats of paint on their facades as well as bags of concrete and tools littered all over the place. Omnics _and_ humans worked together, side by side. All around him, he saw the same thing. And perhaps more strangely, no one seemed to mind his sudden appearance. Not once did he catch someone staring at him. Normally, he wouldn't be able to take a step outside without someone gawking at him, be it because of his omnic body or because he still carried with him his weapons out in the open, knowing full well that no one would make to stop him.

When he was nearing the temple, someone finally approached. It was an omnic, but not just any omnic, no. Genji had seen this particular one many times online.

"Tekhartha Mondatta-dono," Genji said as he stopped by the entrance of the temple. Mondatta-dono made no move to avoid him, instead offering a small bow, which Genji returned more out of custom than anything else. Neither of them said anything else or even made a move to acknowledge the other in any other way. Mondatta-dono stared at Genji, and the ninja had to wonder about what was going through the other's mind—or would it be programing?

"Another lost soul has come to us, brother," Mondatta-dono said, confusing Genji until he noticed those words were not meant for him. Another omnic, similar in size and built to Mondatta-dono, floated from behind the latter until it hovered besides them. This omnic emitted a strange aura, should such a thing be possible. Physically, it was almost identical to Mondatta-dono, and yet, there was something very different that Genji couldn't quite put his finger on. "Introductions are in order. One-Hundred and twenty three, may I present to you my brother, Tekhartha Zenyatta."

It took the ex-Overwatch agent some time before he understood that Mondatta-dono was speaking to him this time. Genji bowed to the one called Zenyatta-san, who returned it in kind with a small chuckle. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Tekhartha Zenyatta-san."

"Please, call me Zenyatta," responded the omnic. Genji wasn't too comfortable with that, as calling someone you just met so casually was frowned upon in Japan. Nonetheless, complaining about such a things felt pointless. How Zenyatta-san detected his confusion, Genji wouldn't know, but the omnic went on to explain, "many of my omnic brothers and sisters carry the name of Tekhartha. It could confuse others if you called me by that name, and it would be a mouthful should you choose to call me by both." Genji nodded. "May we know your name, Lost One?"

Genji felt ashamed of himself for a moment. For introductions, it was normal to always start with one's self. Instead, he'd gone out and called out the name of someone else instead of offering his own. It was silly, but it still bothered the man. "My name is Shimanda Genji*. I came here… I'm not actually sure why I came here..."

"It is as you say, Mondatta," said Zenyatta-san, only turning its head slightly to look at the other omnic to his side. "A lost soul."

Mondatta-dono noded. "Can I trust you with him, brother? I must retrieve Janina and Seventy-Six." He turned to look back at Genji, who seemed confused by the conversation, though he couldn't exactly show it with his mask on.

"Of course. Seventy-Six must be getting anxious. It is the first time he has left the temple since he joined us. I will take care of Genji."

Genji followed Mondatta-dono with his eyes as the omnic walked away. It was then joined by a couple of other figures, likely more people that would retrieve whoever Janina and Seventy-Six where. When he could no longer see the retreating figure of Mondatta-dono, Genji turned back to face Zenyatta-san. The hovering omnic only stared back, not saying a single word as the circle of spheres floated around him, emitting a small light. After a minute passed, the omnic finally spoke up.

"You are tired. Let us find you a place to call your own so that you can rest. We have many available rooms here, despite our numbers swelling in the last few years. I am sure you will find one of them suitable to your tastes." The way the omnic spoke left little room for protest, feeling more like an order than it was an invitation. When it made to guide him, Genji followed behind, thinking about the situation he found himself in. He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to stay. He'd only just arrived, and already he felt like he was intruding on a family of strangers. He was lost so much in his inner turmoil that he hadn't noticed Zenyatta-san looking back at him. "You are troubled. Is it because of your past? Or maybe your present?"

"I think it's very clear why I would be troubled," Genji scoffed, avoiding the piercing gaze of the omnic.

"Yes, that much is evident by the way you carry yourself. Are you bothered by your appearance?" Genji flinched. Was it that obvious? He could only glare at Zenyatta-san, as no response came to him to refute the statement, almost as if he already knew that the omnic would see right through his lie if he were to come up with one on the spot. "A human trapped by his own enhancements. Intriguing. There are many here that would identify with you, even if your degree of modification is much higher than anyone else's. By your heartbeat and how little you breath, even after taking the path up the mountain, I suspect that this modifications are keeping you alive."

The ninja's eyebrows furrowed, not that the omnic could see, however. "I would rather not talk about this with someone I just met."

"I understand." They finally came to a stop at the second level of one of the buildings. The doors were already open by the time they'd reached it. The room had little in it, mainly a mat on the floor that would work as a bed and some blankets to protect oneself from the cold of the Himalayas. It reminded Genji of the room he once shared with his brother when the two were but infants. If there had been toys and books laying around, then it would've been an exact replica of the room. Then again, the room of his infancy did not have the view this one had. "I believe you will find this room fitting. Feel free to rest as long as you need to. If you want sustenance, there is always food available at the mess hall. You are free to explore, if you like. Worry not about those around you. They are well aware of who you are. Though they will want to approach you, they know better than to do so. A lesson learned when other Overwatch agents first showed up. Should you find the need to talk, or should you seek guidance, you can find me in the temple, where I spend most of time."

Genji had only been half listening to Zenyatta-san's explanation as he explored the room further. It took him some time, but finally something clicked in his head. _Other Overwatch agents?_ Unfortunately, he would not get to ask who those agents were as by the time he'd turned around, the omnic monk had made itself scarce. He was half tempted to seek out the omnic once more to ask about it, but then he remembered that it mattered little. Overwatch had thousands of personnel all over the world. The chances of him knowing who the particular agents Zenyatta-san had spoken about was slim to none. He suddenly felt very tired. The walk up the mountain hadn't taken much of a toll on his omnic body, but it certainly tired his mind, as it was still something that he could say with confidence still remained human.

Not minding that the sun was still far from setting, Genji closed the door and window of the room to prepare to rest. He took off his mask, turning it around in his hands as to see his exterior face. It was devoid of all emotion. A perfect mask for a ninja and an assassin. He wondered how many of his clan knew it was him behind it when he sought them out during his time with Overwatch. _All of them_ , he told himself. The fear and hate in their eyes told him as much when he confronted them. They knew one or the other would need to die… But Genji already had. Growling at the mask, he tossed it aside before laying down on the mat and using the covers to pretend to feel a bit of warmth.

In the weeks to come, Genji learned much of the Shambali as a whole. It was as Zenyatta-san had said; they all acted as if he was just another stranger, going as far as not calling him by name, instead opting to call him nicknames like Mr. Ninja given his appearance or the Omniblade given that he carried his weapons with him. They were more tongue in cheek than he would've liked, but he didn't shy away from them. The community was friendly enough, never asking about Genji's past, instead always focusing on the present. It was curious, but in the back of the warrior's mind he wanted to scream at them for it. They pretended not to notice the discomfort he showed with himself. All, except Zenyatta-san.

At first, Genji did his best to avoid the omnic. There was something about it that Genji didn't particularly like. But no matter how hard he tried, even going as far as using some of the skills he'd learned over the years to avoid being seen, Zenyatta-san always seemed to be two steps ahead. No matter how hard he tried, Zenyatta-san always found him. It was only made worse by the fact that the omnic would not come out and say what it clearly wanted to say. It would stare at Genji, as if waiting for him to burst. Eventually, it happened. After trying once again to avoid the omnic, Genji found himself being dragged to the garden, where he sat on the ground with Zenyatta-san across from him.

"What do you _want_?" Genji spat the words like they were venom. Seeing if the omnic could find him had been amusing for the first couple of days, but now it was getting to him. He was in no mood for games anymore. All he wanted was to be alone, as strange as that would be given that he was the one that went to the Shambali in the first place.

"That is a question you should be asking yourself, Genji," responded the monk.

Genji scoffed, making to get up. "I have no time for mind games, monk."

"Avoiding the problem will not put you at peace." The words were enough to freeze Genji on the spot. "You are troubled by your own existence; troubled by who—or should it be what?—you've become. A man trapped inside a machine. Your situation is unique, but that does not mean we cannot help you."

"What would you know of what I'm going through?" Genji's words were heavy, sounding like a growl of sorts. He clenched his fists hard, thankful that, though he could feel the pain thanks to the technology put into his body, he could not pierce the metallic surface. "You are but a machine. You were programmed, not born."

"You are most correct. Perhaps your assumption will stray you from your path, but you can still control your destiny, Genji. If you could indulge me for a moment, I have something I would like to ask you." Still hesitant, Genji found his body moving automatically once again, retaking his spot on the ground, though his arms were crossed over his chest defensively. "As you said, I am but a machine, built by humans to perform the tasks that I programmed to do. You are not wrong in saying that. Do you think it possible then that a machine would have a soul?"

"Something that is not born cannot have a soul." The ninja's response was automatic. He regretted the way he phrased it, but his inner turmoil was taking over his actions. He would've made an apology for the harsh words given that Zenyatta-san had helped him enough to that point, but before he could, Zenyatta-san nodded and countered.

"One must be born to carry a soul within them. I believe it is not necessary for me to explain how creatures of the flesh create offspring." Genji grunted. "Then we are in agreement that humans, who have souls, create life, and hence, that life carries a soul. And yet, when humans created omnics, programmed us to think like them, to talk like them, to feel like them, and even evolve like them, we do not posses a soul?"

Genji felt like he'd been lead by a string to a trap—his words turned against him, he felt like there was no correct response, so he opted to remain silent.

"Then, what about you? Would you, who is more machine than flesh, posses a soul?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Zenyatta-san was not wrong. In fact, those questions were a clear reflection of what he'd been thinking all along. One could even argue that, with the state Overwatch had first found him in, he'd died and hence, his body had left him, only leaving behind a small fraction of his former self living long enough for Dr. Ziegler to transform him. "I do not know."

Zenyatta-san noded. "It is a common assumption to make that body and mind, or in this case the soul, are interconnected. One cannot live without the other. I believe it was the philosopher Rene Descartes who first proposed this view known as dualism. It was accepted as such because there was no other that would encompass people's beliefs of the afterlife as well. However, Gilbert Ryle, another philosopher, made the argument that the mind and body were independent of one another, and that the body was but a machine acting as a vessel for the soul."

Genji remembered Dr. Ziegler mentioning something similar in passing. "Ghost in the machine," he said. "Yes, I am familiar with the concept. But I think you're manipulating the words to act in your favor."

"A distinctive human trait, would you not say?" The omnic chuckled to itself. "We all like to choose whether something is subjective or objective—if something is being stated or hidden between the lines—in a way that benefits us best."

Any counterargument the young Shimada had vanished when he started laughing instead. Perhaps there was something to be learned in the Himalayas after all. "You are very wise for an omnic."

"I humbly accept your compliment," Zenyatta-san said with a bow. It looked like it would say something else, but instead, the monk suddenly seemed to perk up, looking to his surroundings. Following its example, Genji also looked in the same direction. Faintly, the sound of a familiar song echoed around them, getting louder and louder by the second. "Ah, I believe they've arrived."

"They?" he looked back at the wise omnic, who began to hover back up again with him standing up too.

"Yes." When it started floating away in the direction of the music, Genji followed close behind. The invitation was implicit, it seemed. And when Zenyatta-san didn't stop him, he thought that there would be nothing wrong with him seeing these people, who he assumed were of some importance given that there were quite a few people and omnics heading in the same direction.

A small crowd had gathered by the path leading to the temple, all looking with curiosity to whatever was heading their way. The melody of the song was clear enough for Genji to recognize it as "The flight of the Valkyries", though the rendition was very crude with beeping taking the place of all the instruments in the orchestra that would be needed to play such a piece.

When he finally saw it, his first instinct was to open his arm and take out his shurikens. He almost did too had it not been for Zenyatta-san, who placed a hand on his forearm and shook its head slightly, pointing ahead. There was a Bastion unit in its tank configuration coming towards them. Sitting peacefully on its main gun was Mondatta-dono, looking as calm as a child riding on a stroller. That was enough to put everyone else at ease, but not for Genji, who still wanted to brandish one of his weapons should the Bastion attack. But was frozen still when he noticed the ghost that to Mondatta-dono's side.

With one last, long high pitched note, the tank came to a halt in front of them all. Some of the others were applauding the performance and already greeting their leader. Meanwhile, Genji approached the ghost, who stood tall and proud in front of him, her face not hiding any of her surprise while his mask hid all of his at seeing the comrade. "Of all the people to see here, I never expect to see _you_ here, Genji," said the older woman.

"Amari-san? But… I thought—" His words were interrupted when Amari-san patted his shoulder, showing that she already knew what was on her mind. Despite years having passed since he'd last seen her, she still looked like the same proud woman that would stand at the command room back in HQ.

"Everyone does, Genji. That was the point. It wasn't my first choice, but I've learned to live with it." She gave him one of her usual motherly smiles. "But what brings you here? I thought you would be looking for your brother by now."

"I was never able to find my brother even with the help of Overwatch," he reminded her. "With that gone, so are my chances to ever find him."

Amari-san tilted her head, her smile gone. "Do you still want to find him?"

"I am not sure anymore…"

Feeling uncomfortable, he was lucky that everyone's attention, including Amari-san's, turned to see the Bastion unit transform to its reckon form. Seeing it in person reminded the young japanese man of the cartoons he used to watch in secret with his brother when he was still a child. How much he'd loved seeing those transformation back then. Of course, that was before he learned the history of the Omnic Crisis. After that, he came to fear such things, not that he would ever admit to it. The Bastion unit turned, looking over at three figures standing behind it, beeping away in what felt like panic.

"This is so classic Seventy-Six," came the voice of an omnic, who seemed to be helping someone stand up. "Didn't get enough bed rest before, so now you'll have us all doing the lifting for you, huh?"

"Shush, Yera," chastised a young woman, who was also helping the same figure that the omnic was, the Bastion unity making it impossible for Genji to get a clear view of any of them. "God, sometimes I think there's a loose screw in there. Can't you see Dad's hurting?"

"I'm your dad now?" The third voice, that of an older man, was extremely familiar to Genji. Hadn't it been for the fact that he knew it would be impossible— No… Amari-san was there. Could it be? Genji moved to get a better look, and sure enough, there, being carried between an omnic and a woman, was the face of Overwatch himself, Strike-Commander Jack Morrison. His thoughts were hard to be put into words with the constant beeping of the Bastion, which seemed to be getting the best of the Commander as well. "I heard you the first time! Stop it already. I told you it's fine. With my luck, it had to be me…"

"Commander…?" Genji took a tentative step forward, still unsure if the man _really_ was Jack Morrison. Compared to Amari-san, this man look much different from what he remembered. Gone was the soldier that stood tall with his perfect face and glint in his eyes. Now there was only an old man with scars marring his face and arms, and, apparently, something wrong with one of his legs by the way he was standing.

"Huh…" The Commander looked at him, his bright, almost lifeless eyes connecting with Genji's visor, though it almost felt like the man was seeing through the visor altogether. "Good to see you, kid."

* * *

 **AN:**

Shimada Genji* —In Japan, the family name comes first. Since this chapter was locked to Genji's perspective, I went with that structure, though for anyone else it stays the same. Likewise, this is also why I used honorifics for his chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

Having traveled around all over Europe for the last few years, Reinhardt couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a break. Brigitte would often joke that while his body could still withstand the heat of battle, his mind was waning with every passing year. The old crusader always laughed at that and went on to say that he felt better than ever. Still, sometimes he wondered how much truth there was to his voice, for he did forget about small details from time to time, like how he'd stopped by the same house he was in front of now some months ago, though the reason behind that visits were nothing alike.

The mountain-of-a-man looked up at the house in front of him with his one good eye, wondering if maybe _this_ would work better. It was a last ditch effort to get some answers he wanted—that they all needed.

The home itself was couldn't exactly be called humble for its size, but it still has that homely feeling about it that reminded Reinhardt of the house he grew up in. Brick walls, wooden roof, oak front door, and big windows. Sometimes it was hard to imagine that house like that one still existed with all the technological advances made every day. It wasn't long ago that those architects-folk from Vishkar started constructing whole buildings in seconds. Very modern looking they were, but they certainly couldn't replace a good old home.

Turning to take one last glance at the company he kept, he gave the door a few knocks, knowing that pressing the doorbell was usually a bad idea. It didn't take long before the door opened up, revealing a face Reinhardt was always glad to see. With open arms, he smiled widely at her, hoping he wasn't interrupting anything important. "Mila! It's been too long!"

Their usual greeting was for her to jump into his arms. No matter how old they got, they'd done so since she was a child. He'd even gone so far to prepare himself for it, even if the blonde in front of him wasn't big enough to really make him stumble. Mila's face lit up, her smile spreading wide. It was only until she pushed the door open completely that Reinhardt noticed just why their traditional greeting couldn't happen. Reinhardt chuckled, looking at the bump in her belly. "And I see your family keeps getting bigger and bigger!"

"It's always good to see you, brother," Mila said as she went for a hug, which Reinhardt returned in kind. It felt like ages since he'd last seen his sister. Some still found it strange how the two could get along so well. Despite the many years that separated them, the crusader always thought of the much shorter woman as his younger sister anyways instead of a stranger, as it was common to do when the age gap between family happened. Even with her growing belly, it was hard for him to imagine her as nothing other than that happy little child that would send him letters during the Omnic Crisis. When the two separated, Mila glanced over to the young woman standing behind him. "And I see that you are still dragging Brigitte around."

"Nowhere I wouldn't want to go myself," Brigitte assure Mila before going in for a hug of her own, this one much more gentle in comparison to Reinhardt's. "It's always nice to see you, Mila. I hope we're not intruding."

"Not at all," the blonde reassured her, giving her arm a squeeze before turning to the third figure that was still behind Reinhardt. "And who might this be? A friend of yours, Brigitte? Now, it's rude to not face someone."

This was something the old man had warned about, but there was no way around it. He held his breath as he watched Brigitte nudge the hooded figure of Cayde, who took his time turning. There was a small flinch from Mila when she noticed him, as Reinhardt well knew there would be. Still, she tried not to shy away or make thing awkward, even if it was likely that the omnic took notice of it. Before she could retreat her hand further, Cayde shook her hand in his own gloved one, letting go just as quickly. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Lindholm. My name's Cayde."

There was an awkward silence around them, no one being brave enough to say a word about what happened. It continued like that until Mila shivered. They were in the middle of winter, and the warmth of the house was quickly leaving her, apparently. Reinhardt saw his sister looking towards him a few times, almost as if telling him to get rid of the omnic, but he wasn't about to budge on this one. He knew that Mila had a soft heart, and even if it was an omnic, she wouldn't let anyone wait outside her home like that. With a long sigh that showed her frustration, she ushered them. "Can't have people saying that I'm not a good hostess," she told them quickly. "Boots off my floor. Just had it cleaned."

Reinhardt counted that as the first victory of the uphill battles that were already taking place. No sooner had they passed the threshold of the doorway than his nieces and nephews came around the corner to see who was visiting. In an instant, the old man was bombarded by greetings of "uncle Rein" and by the little ones rushing him for a hug, something they'd taken after their mother. The Crusader laughed and ruffled all their hair, blonde and ginger alike, before the kids turned to greet Brigitte and then looked at Cayde.

"Woah! I've never seen an omnic like that before!" He heard one of the boys say as he looked at the omnic over and over again, running circles around. "Papa doesn't like omnics coming over. Are you a friend of Papa's?"

"Heh," Cayde let out as he crouched down to take a better look at the kid. Reinhardt didn't fail to notice the way Mila reacted once more. Torbjorn had been a bad influence on her about that. Reinhardt could still remember how she used to love omnics back in the day. But with the way Torbjorn talked about them and with the way the world was currently in—some speculated that they were in the brink of a second Omnic Crisis—she'd become more weary of them over the years. "Old Torb-Torb and I go way back. I'm sure he's told you all stories of his good ol' pal Cayde! I used to help him around the forge from time to time with Brigitte back in Zurich all those years ago."

"Papa never mentioned working with an omnic before," said Frieda, the oldest of his nieces. That one had always been the sharpest tool in the box, and the older she got, the more observant she became. It would be no surprise if she went on to become some big named scientist or maybe an engineer like her father. The girl, barely nine, looked at the omnic with suspicion, her eye narrowed and her brow furrowed. "He always says how he hates omnics."

"Cayde used to be the AI that controlled the Swiss Headquarters back in the day," Brigitte clarified as he set a hand on the omnic's shoulder, who looked up at her and gave a thankful nod. Having her vouch for him was better than him trying to convince the skeptical children of his story, given that the woman had been mentored by Torbjorn. "He only got this body a couple of years ago. I can't say that your father liked him very much back then, though."

"You kidding, Freckles? Torb-Torb loved me!" Cayde protested as he went on to stand at his full height, which was still short of that of Brigitte's. The hood he wore seemed to obscure his face as he looked between Frieda and the mechanic, who didn't even try to hide how she rolled her eyes. "He even called me Digi-Toaster."

Frieda laughed, making Reinhardt laugh in turn. He wondered if that'd been Cayde's plan all along, seeing as they all knew that _that_ wasn't a nickname, but an insult. "Papa calls all omnics Toasters!"

"Hey now. Don't you try to take that away from me," said the omnic as he turned sideways. If he could pout at all, Reinhardt was sure that the omnic would be showing one at that moment. Meanwhile, Mila looked more at ease after seeing the interaction and learning more about who Cayde actually was. Long ago, Reinhardt had convinced Jack to go celebrate Christmas with him and Torbjorn. That was around the time Jesse left Blackwatch and made the modifications that made the Cayde who he now was. The Crusader laughed and laughed that day at the stories Jack shared of his "improved" AI, Mila laughing along while Torbjorn tried his hardest not to smile as he recounted his own tales. Oh, how Reinhardt longed for those days…

As he watched his nieces and nephews bombard Cayde with questions and pester Brigitte to play with them, he took the opportunity to have a conversation with his sister, nudging her towards the kitchen so that they could talk in peace. Mila, being the good hostess she'd always been, began to boil some water in the electric kettle he'd gifted her years ago and prepared the cup they would be using for tea. Reinhardt was exploring the kitchen, looking at the new drawings that hung on the fridge and the picture frames that covered the walls when he heard her speak up, her back towards him. "What brings you here, Rein? I love you, brother, you know that. But, what possible reason could you have to bring an _omnic_ to my home? You know better than most how Torbjorn feels about them. If he was home, he wouldn't have let you in."

"He left me no choice," responded the Crusader, his eyes finding the ground very interesting. He knew he was putting her in a difficult position, being between family. A part of him hated himself for doing it, but what else was he supposed to do? "Torbjorn is avoiding me, Mila. I call, but he never answers. He _knows_ it's important, but he's still too prideful to help because an omnic is involved."

"His pride is nothing compared to your stubbornness, Rein. I've told you time and time again that it is time to hang your mantle." She poured the boiling water on the teacups before adding a small bag of tea to each one. Handing one to him, she moved to support herself against her counter, her own cup in hand. It was too bad that there wasn't a kitchen table they could both sit at, and with all the commotion coming from the living room, they wouldn't be able to talk in the dining room. "If not for yourself, you should do it for Brigitte. She's still young, and full of potential. I hear there are many that would benefit from having her around. I'm sure she won't be lacking for job offers or comfort."

Reinhardt frowned. There wasn't a time that the two didn't have this conversation. Years before he was forced to retire, they talked about it too. When he first took off to wander around Europe, dispensing justice to the criminals that terrorized towns, she tried to convince him to stop. And when Brigitte joined him, she did it once more. Why would this time be any different? Rein sipped his own tea, letting the heat of the beverage warm him before letting out a long sigh. "Brigitte is her own woman. If she desires to leave for greener pastures, I will support her. But as long as she chooses to stay and fight, I will have her by my side."

"And you?" Mila asked once more in a low voice, almost a whisper.

"How can I stop? Look at the world around us, sister. People loved Overwatch until they felt _too_ safe. Then they turned their backs against us. Now, Jack's dead and Overwatch disbanded, and the world has suffered for it. No day goes by without a protest breaking out into a riot. There are children out there no older than you own girls that don't see their parents returning home after authorities take things too far. You've heard it too, haven't you? About the Second Omnic Crisis?"

"Is that why you brought an omnic to my home?"

"Cayde holds the key to know why everything is happening, I know it. It is in our grasps, Mila. We could know so many thing! The truth behind Amelie's kidnapping. Why we were never allowed to return to Ecopoint: Antarctica. The cause behind the Slipstream incident. Overwatch was not destroyed because of the actions of Gabriel and Jack during the Zurich Event. It all lead to that. I was forced to retire. Widowmaker killed Ana. Torbjorn wanting to leave Overwatch… and Gabriel and Jack's fight in Zurich. It is all connected, I know! Cayde could tell us everything, but his protocols stop him from doing so. And for that, we need my brother-in-law—my brother in arms—to help us access those files by naming a new Strike-Commander."

Gingerly, his sister set down the teacup on the counter, looking back at him in the eyes. "You are talking about breaking international law, Rein. The Petras Act prohibits any and all Overwatch activities. If you are so curious about all of this, take Cayde to the Defense Director in United Nations. He can overwrite all orders given by Over—"

"That thought crossed our minds as well. But it isn't that simple. Winston thinks that the fall of Overwatch was an inside job directed by the United Nations themselves and other associates. What do you think would happen to the information if they got a hold of it? What would happen to Cayde if they got him? No, dear sister. We cannot trust anyone with this but ourselves."

The two remained quiet for a while. The silence too seemed to spread to the living room, where the sound of the kids playing around was no longer there. Reinhardt didn't think much about it until it was too late. The thumping sound of metal hitting metal rang out throughout the house, followed by another one and then Brigitte yelling. Fearing the worst, Reinhardt set down his teacup on the counter before breaking into a sprint towards the living room. He saw just what he expected, though he wished it hadn't ended up that way. All his nieces and nephews were standing at the far wall, looking towards their father, who held his hammer in his good hand as he fumed. Cayde was on the floor, trying to get up. From the looks of him, Torbjorn took a swing and connected with the omnic's head. Cayde's left optic was shattered and there was a noticeable dent on his head. Meanwhile, Brigitte stood between the short man and the omnic, arms extended to prevent Torbjorn from swinging his hammer again.

"You got a good arm on you, I'll give you that," said Cayde as he staggered trying to get up. Thankfully, Brigitte was already by his side, helping him stand and assessing the damage. "Ever thought about going into baseball? You could get home runs for days."

"I told you to shut up, Cayde," Brigitte chastised as she adjusted her grasp on the omnic. "Stop testing his patience. Do you want another 'good' hit?"

Torbjorn's brow furrowed further, his teeth clenched so hard that they could shatter. "Not as good as it used to be. I wanted to smash that whole piece in, Toaster. Who do you think you are, coming to my home? I don't want your kind anywhere near my family!"

"Not in front of the children," Mila called out, her words laced with worry as she looked at her babies, all of whom looked scared to death. That seemed to put a bit of a leash on the Swede, but the German didn't want to test for how long it would last.

Cayde removed the glove from his right hand. A small projection came out of it, showing the Overwatch logo. "Just need your confirmation code and we'll be on our way. No need to scare anyone else. "

"This again?" Had it not been for the clean floor, Reinhardt knew that his friend would've spat. "You people need to let it go! Overwatch is dead! Jack is dead! No matter what you do, it won't change that."

Reinhardt could see the fire in Torbjorn's eye rising. If he didn't intervene, things could get that much worse. Taking a step forward, he said, "Brigitte, why don't you take our _friend_ back to the van? Check if you can get that dent out of him. Torbjorn and I have things to discuss."

Brigitte said nothing as she looked at the Crusader. Chewing at her bottom lip for a moment, she gave him a weak nod, not even sparing a single look at her old mentor. Before she could get too far, however, someone pulled on her pants, making her stop. It was the youngest boy Jan, who pulled off what Reinhardt recognized to be Cayde's hood and then offered it to the mechanic, who smiled and took it with her.

"Not an ounce of hate in that one," he heard Cayde whisper to Brigitte before the two were out the door, for which Reinhardt was glad. It wouldn't be out of the question for Torbjorn to run over and attempt to hit Cayde again. During their Overwatch days, the blonde had always been merciless when facing omnics in and out of combat. Despite the obvious damage suffered, it was another small win for their side.

Mila had already taken the kids away by the time the door closed, leaving the two old friends to face each other. He could already hear what Torbjorn wanted to say, so it came as no surprise when the words were spoken. "It's not enough to harass me with all those calls and emails, but now you come to _my home_ with that- that thing?! We may be family, Rein, and old friends before that, but I can't forgive anyone for doing this, not even you. What's gotten into you? Why is this so damn important to you? You need to let it go." Rein's face soured. Those words reminded him of Angela, though hers were much more sweet and caring. Then again, this was as caring as Torbjorn would get with anyone other than Mila and their children. "Don't pull a Jack on me, Rein. You know how things got after Ana…"

"Winston has been investigating everything with Athena back in Gibraltar," the taller man explained. "We're slowly finding clues about what really happened with what little Cayde can tell us without breaking protocols. We are close to finding out what really brought down Overwatch. Maybe even know why Gabriel did what he did."

"So you want me to help you condemn someone to life in prison because of this? And believe me when I tell you, that will be the lightest sentence this new Strike-Commander of yours would get from the UN if they catch wind of this. Who would it be? Ang? She doesn't care. She is out there making the world a better place in her own way. Lena? A shame, seeing as how she's still young. Winston? They would send him back to the moon and let his kind deal with him. You wouldn't be stupid enough to push it onto Brigitte. You and I both know we are too old to do it. So, who's left? Your Toaster friend?"

"Cayde," Reinhardt corrected. "No, he said he can't do it. The protocol is clear that whoever the next Strike-Commander is, it has to be human."

"Smart man, Jack," Torbjorn smirked as he turned to look at the picture hanging over the fireplace, the picture of their _other_ family. "Could always go looking for Liao. She might take up the mantle."

"If we could find her, we wouldn't pester you this much."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first hundred times." The two face each other, any sort of melancholy gone from them. "I see how important this is to you. Maybe once you get to those files you can finally move on… So? Who's it gonna be then? Tell me a name, and I'll think about it, but not before. And don't bother coming here with the Toaster when you have the name. I'll find you. Don't want the kids seeing that thing again."

Another victory, however small it felt. Truth was, they'd never discussed who would become Strike-Commander. They'd been so busy trying to convince Torbjorn for the last three years that they forgot about that important detail. He would need to get together with Winston to discuss it. Maybe they could find a way to convince Cayde to share the files without anyone actually becoming Strike-Commander as long as they had the Crusader and the engineer's approval. "I'm still invited for Christmas, then?" He joked.

"You better be there. The twins will be born by then, and we already know you won't make it for that with how stupid you are with calendars."

After what felt like forever, Reinhardt was able to laugh with cheer, slapping the shorter man on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward. With the promise of finding someone worthy of the title of Strike-Commander, the German left the house behind after saying goodbye to his extended family.

The van was already waiting for his outside, parked in front of the house with its engine roaring. There was little free space in there for him to fit in. They'd packed the vehicle as much as they could. His armor, Brigitte's tools, and all the supplies they needed to survive for a while were cramped in there. The young mechanic was examining the omnic's face, twisting it this way and then that way.

"Yep, it's busted," she said, sitting down with a sigh. "I warned you this would happen. I can get that dent out of your face, but you'll have to wait a while until we get you a new optic."

Cayde shrugged. "Heard somewhere ladies love battle wounds." Reinhardt laughed. That was something he'd heard his whole life too, but in truth most people found scars to be synonymous with danger, so they stayed away. "What do you say, Freckles? How about we give it a shot?"

Brigitte rolled her eyes. "I'm more of a brain's girl."

"I can speak thirteen languages and can recall one million digits of Pi. How about that?" It was like watching a comedy sketch unfold in front of him.

"So, Reinhardt," Brigitte said, ignoring Cayde while pulling off the damaged plate. Cayde faked hurt before he turned around on his seat to work on his optic. "I take it things went better with Torbjorn after we left?"

"Yes!" The man boasted, pushing his chin up and chest out. "He will help. But first, we need to find ourselves a new Strike-Commander. Any idea where we can find one?"

"I heard the Commander tell Fareeha Amari that she would be a good leader someday," Cayde said, turning around. Even if he was an omnic, seeing him work on his own eye was disturbing. "Think he was joking, though. First time he told her she would steal the job from under him, she wasn't old enough to sign herself up for the military."

"I don't think Anna would like us to put the burden on little Fareeha."

"You call her little, but she is a woman grown, only a couple of years younger than Brigitte here. I ran a background check on her last month. Turns out, she left the military to join Helix International."

"After everything that she's been through, I doubt bringing her in would be best," Brigitte said. She was currently leaning back on her seat, examining the other side of the plate in her hand. "Wouldn't someone that was part of Overwatch be better for this? I'm still surprised Morrison didn't leave behind a list of potential candidates, to be honest."

"We can discuss this back in Gibraltar," said Reinhardt as he moved to the front of the van and got it into gear. This was a big decision to make. It wouldn't feel right to not consider everyone's opinions. A message would need to be sent to everyone that already knew about the current situation so they could gather. "That makes it our next destination. I'll call Winston to let him know."

"Hold on there, big guy," Cayde piped up, his broken optic lighting up again, though still missing a piece of glass. "What's the rush? Besides, there is something more urgent we should be doing right about now."

"I told you, we're not going to the amusement park," Brigitte said, not _amused_ by his words.

"And I'm still angry about that. We could all use a break, right? But that's not what I meant. Someone's sent a request for a pickup. Through old Overwatch channels."

"Who would use old Overwatch channels after everything that happened?"

"Someone that's been stuck in Antarctica for the past couple of decades…" Brigitte and Reinhardt exchanged a look, both of confusing and realization. There was only one place where someone in Antarctica could send out a signal through Overwatch channels, and that was Ecopoint: Antarctica.


	9. Chapter 9

Lifting weights had become part of Fareeha "Pharah" Amari's daily routine every since she joined Helix Security International. While in the army, she would do it often, but back then stamina was a higher priority than raw strength. That changed due to one simple fact: the Raptora suit. There were few people in Helix that could bare the strain of such a suit for hours at a time, even days if it was necessary. Those that could had all been put into a squad to test out the newly acquired Raptora Mark VI's capabilities. The suits were heavy, much more than Pharah expected. She remembered some Overwatch members using earlier versions of the suit for combat, and thinking that they couldn't be that heavy or bulky given how easy they made it seem to use. And maybe that was true for earlier versions of the advance-mobility suits, but this version wasn't the case. Not that it mattered. No matter how difficult the challenge was, being able to soar through the sky aided only by a suit was an unbeatable experience that made all the work she put into being able to use one worth it.

But to wear such a suit, one would need to have the muscle to lug around about thirty kilos of equipment, despite the suit being made of state of the art alloy that reduced its weight to a minimum without compromising sturdiness. And so, the young Egyptian woman trained her body daily with the rest of her squad under Captain Khalil's insistence. Personally, she would've preferred to be left alone. Training was something that always helped her clear her mind, but with so many people around chatting away instead of focusing on what they were doing, it wasn't possible for her to do that. The only one that seemed to understand her, however ironic, was the Captain, who made sure to pair up with her whenever she needed a spotter on the weights.

That understanding didn't stop him from insisting that she should interact more with her squadmates and pushing his views onto her. At least once a day, he would bring up the subject. Pharah talked with them, she insisted. He would go on about how keeping it professional at all times wasn't healthy, as it could damage the bonds squadmates were suppose to have between them. She always rolled her eyes at that. If she'd learned anything from observing Overwatch agents throughout her life it was that even those closest to you could die, no matter what you did. Or worse, they could betray you… Why risk that? If she was faced with deciding between the mission and a squadmate, she would always choose the mission. And if someone betrayed them? Well, they all knew she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

The Captain shook his head at her response as he helped her set the weights back down and she sat up on the bench, her body drenched in her own sweat; a good sign that she'd put in the effort necessary for the day and that she should end it there. "Your mother knew better than that, Fareeha," he insisted as he showed her his back. She glared at him, prepared to accuse him of not knowing anything about her mother, which was true. However, she didn't get a chance. "Hit the showers and then see if you can find Okoro. He has no excuse to skip out on training because he's an omnic. Dismissed."

Pharah restrained herself from clicking her tongue. No matter which way she looked at it, Okoro had the _only_ excuse that mattered. Omnics didn't grow stronger from training their bodies as humans did. She wouldn't say that to the Captain, though. Instead, she stood up and saluted her superior before walking away towards the locker room without saying a word. To her pleasure, the place was empty when she got there. Neatly leaving her clothes on a pile, she took a cold shower to get rid of all the sweat on her. She wouldn't bother with washing her hair seeing as she would likely want to take a bath back home. Putting the Helix uniform that every soldier was required to wear, she left the facilities in search of Okoro. The omnic wasn't one to wander around. She knew it well enough to know exactly where it would be.

As she walked through the hallways of the facilities, she noticed some of her peers making their ways around too. Some of them, like her, walked alone. Others did so while chatting with coworkers or discussing more serious topics, as was to be expected of members of the R&D staff. Nothing out of the ordinary there. It certainly reminded her of the busy halls of the different Watchpoints she'd visited throughout her life. The only difference was that she did not smile or wave at those faces she recognized. She didn't even acknowledge them. Those days were over.

Much like she'd suspected, Pharah found the omnic in the squad's shared office space. What did surprise her was it holding a picture frame, studying the image intently. She had to do a double take to make sense of just _who_ that picture frame belonged to. Stamping, she made her way to the omnic, who still hadn't acknowledged her presence. Before it could turn, she snatched the frame from its hands, fuming. This was the exact reason why she didn't keep anything too personal on her desk to begin with. As soon as she brought something, someone felt like they had a right to know all about her life.

"Gunnery Sergeant," Okoro said respectfully as it turned to face her, thought she'd already turned her back to it, only looking back at it from the corner of her eye. "My apologies. I did not mean to cross a line. Curiosity got the best of me."

"How can an omnic feel curiosity?" It was a rhetorical question, but Okoro didn't figure that part out, despite its alleged learning algorithm and processing.

"It is part of our core programming that allows for our own growth, Gunnery Sergeant. It provides my kind with many learning experiences, much like humans do during their infancy." The aperture on its single optic shrank as it followed her every movement. The top drawer of her desk was flung open before she shoved the picture in there and closed it back again. "Where you close with Strike-Commander Jack Morrison, Gunnery Sergeant?"

Her eyes flicker up to its optic, which widened in response. Not only did it feel curious enough to pick up something that belonged to her, but now he was asking about her personal life like they were close enough for it to be casual. "My private life is just that. _Private._ I don't want to see you snooping around my things again, is that understood?"

"Understood, Gunnery Sergeant. Once more, allow me to apolo—"

"The Captain wants to speak with you. He sent me to look for you. I wouldn't keep him waiting. It would reflect badly on both of us."

The omnic gave a stiff salute before walking to the door, but before he could open it, it turned back to face her again. Pharah narrowed her eyes. Her words had been clear. She would expect a stupid question like "where can I find him?" from one of the other recruits, but not from Okoro. Instead, it took a step back in her direction, pulling out an envelope and laying it on her desk. "I was told to leave this on your desk, Gunnery Sergeant. I will take my leave now, in case you wish to read the contents in private."

Pharah didn't make a move for the envelope until a whole minute had passed since Okoro left the shared office. Who still sent letters to people anymore? Other than trashmail and some bills, snailmail was rare in Egypt. For a letter to make its way to her through Helix instead of being sent to her home was suspicious too. She thought about shredding the damn thing and forget all about it. Had something important been written on it, she would've received an email instead. Then again, the letter didn't seem like it was trash either. There were stamps from all over the world showing where the letter had been before reaching her. Germany, Turkey, Russia, Venezuela, Argentina, Japan, Israel, and finally Egypt, not in that order, though. The dates that were written on the stamps had faded out. She would give it a read later, if at all.

Opening her drawer back up, she noticed the frame face down in there. She set the envelope to a side, picking up the frame instead. Compared to her, everyone else in her squad had decked out their desks with personal paraphernalia, from gear, pictures of friends and families and posters (there was a poster of Reinhardt hanging from a wall that reminded her of the one she had in her room when she was younger), to small Japanese figurines and collectibles. If someone came in that didn't know the squad, they would think her desk was vacant given how plain it was. Pharah always prefered to keep her working space in pristine condition, keeping things clean and out of the way. That is until her Nan gave her the picture she was now holding, telling her that she should keep it with her. It was a thoughtful present, but it didn't feel right to take it, let alone bring it to Helix of all places. It was one of Nan's precious possessions, as she liked to call her old photos kept in the many albums she brought with her when she moved. On the other hand, Pops called it a picture and memory. "We can always print another copy," he said.

The picture in question was one from her early childhood. She took another glance at the picture, letting a smile grow on her. A younger version of herself laughed as she was carried on the shoulders of the renown Jack Morrison. Or should it be infamous? With how he'd been portrayed after his death, it certainly felt like no one cared about him anymore. Jack was smiling up at her, his hands trying to keep her steady while she leaned on his head. Her mother stood with them, also smiling up at Fareeha, her hands on her hips. She could see some of the others on the background. As she recalled it, Reinhardt, Gabriel, and Gerard were in the middle of an eating competition when the photo was taken, which explained why the three men were stuffing their faces in the picture. It was a nice picture… Except, the only ones still alive were Reinhardt and herself. A nice memory turned sour. She counted herself lucky, after all, she could've died in Zurich too...

 _I should've stopped him from going_. She never would've thought that it would be the last time she would see so many friends. They were supposed to meet with Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Angela, and Gabriel to celebrate her advancement in the army and possibility of joining Overwatch. Instead, she waited alone at the restaurant with the Crusader until they heard the explosion…

Pharah was tempted to stash the picture away like she did most of her memories. If Mrs. Morrison asked about the picture, Pharah could always lie about it. It wasn't as if anyone was allowed to visit Helix facilities. No one would know. She took the picture out of the frame and placed it safely in the inner pocket of her jacket, storing the empty frame in the drawer before locking it.

Her eyes went to the letter once more. She was still curious about it. Lifting the envelope carefully, she examined it once more, taking in every minute detail. If it made it past the screening, there wouldn't be any pathogens in there that could harm her. Still, the letter felt heavy and thick. Whatever there was inside, there was a lot of it. Again, she pondered about putting it through the shredder. The only people she cared about anymore knew how to best contact her. _A letter?_

There wasn't a letter opener on her desk—it wouldn't see any use if she did have one—so she resorted to her pocket knife instead. Tearing one of the sides, she pulled out the contents of the envelope. As she first guessed, there was a lot in it. There were two smaller envelopes and several pages worth of writing that she could see. The envelopes were labeled, one with a square and the other with a '76' written on it. Below each label was text telling her to read the letter first. She would amuse the writer for the time being.

 _My beloved Fareeha,_

Immediately, Pharah dropped the paper like it was a piece of smoldering steel. Her heart was racing and she felt her hands shaking. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd seen that handwriting before many times during her life. Not only that, the way the letter was addressed and the dialect of Arabic used made the list of possible senders rather short. Really, there was only _one_ person that came to her mind, and yet, that couldn't be. That person was dead. They'd been for years. _Maybe she's not_. She quickly silenced the thought. That was ridiculous. Wishful thinking from the little girl in the picture that cried herself to sleep during those long and lonely nights, not from Pharah. _An old letter that would reach me after certain time_. _A deadman's switch?_ Plausible, but unlikely given that she joined Helix sometime after the fall of Overwatch. _Someone is trying to trick me_.

Reaching out for the letter, she continued reading.

 _It is every parent's wish to give their children a better life than they had. When you were born, I firmly believed that to be the case. The Omnic Crisis was over, and the world, united, entered an era of peace. Or at least that was what we thought at the time. The Omnics were defeated, but when a common enemy no longer exists, the world creates new monsters to war against. As a soldier, I knew that I had to keep my family safe. I stayed and fought as part of Overwatch, knowing that it was to provide you with a better future._

 _Protecting the ones I loved had always been important to me. After years of fighting together, my comrades-in-arms became my family, and I loved each and every one of them. And I taught you to do the same, despite not wanting you to go down the same path I did._

The sender of the letter was becoming clearer the longer she read and that made her stomach churn. Most people mistakenly assumed that she didn't have a challenge joining the military. Her life's goal was to join the ranks of Overwatch, and yet, there was always one constant obstacle… She read on.

 _Overwatch was as much your family as it was mine. Reinhardt filled your head with stories of honor, justice, and glory of the battlefield. Reyes helped me teach you how to use your body as a weapon. Torbjorn made your mind sharp with regards of machinery. Jack made you smile as he carried you on his shoulders, always willing to give you advice whenever you asked. There are many others I could mention, but you will remember them better than I can. Perhaps because of this, you felt that you had to join them in their fight. But that was not the future I had fought to protect. I wanted for you to live a life of peace, not fight for it, for that was my burden to carry, not yours._

"Sarge?" Pharah lifted her eyes to see that Aizad, Tariq, and Saleh were in the room with her. She'd been so focused on the letter, her heart thumping harder than a boot on a march that she didn't register the sound of the door opening at all. To make matters worse, she knew that they'd seen what she was reading and the expression she was making because of it. They all looked between amazed and worried at her. Finally, Aizad spoke up again. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," she snapped back, leaving no room for argument. She hurriedly picked up the letter and everything else, stuffing it inside her jacket before going for the door. Luckily for her, she was a few minutes behind her usual schedule. She was supposed to be gone before anyone else got back to the office. This gave her an excuse to not discuss anything with them as the trio just moved aside when she hurried past them. If anyone tried to stop her, she didn't notice at all, nor did she care.

It took her a good twenty minutes to leave the building and find a cab to take her back home. The driver was an omnic, thankfully. For situations like these, Pharah always preferred omnics over humans. It was rare for an omnic driver to initiate chit-chat. Yes, the silence was better—it gave her time she needed to think about what she should do. She'd brought the letter with her, and it was starting to burn a hole in her jacket, figuratively speaking. Taking another glance at the omnic to make sure it wouldn't try peeking at her, she took out the letter again to resume reading.

 _Taking the life of another isn't something to be taken lightly. Even knowing that I was killing to protect those important to me, it didn't stop me from wondering what those that I killed fought for. We are always doing good in our own eyes. To them, we were the evil ones, trying to disrupt their goals or their own picture of peace. They were men and women with families of their own. They were someone's sibling. Someone's child. Someone's parent. And each time I pulled the trigger and later made a notch on my rifle, that's what I would think about. It was suffocating to do so at times, especially when recruits asked how many notches I'd put on my rifle, but nonetheless, I always did what was asked of me… Until the day I hesitated, and my family paid the price._

 _The people whom I was supposed to protect were killed one by one. Before I knew it, when I tried to take the shot again, it was too late. Jack ordered me to retreat, but I was stubborn. This stubbornness had a cost. The lives of many are worth more than the lives of a few. Overwatch abandoned me as much I did them. My decision left me gravely wounded. Broken and alone._

 _I'd finally reached a point where there was no more fight left in me. The burden became too great for me to handle. The world believed that I was dead, and I did nothing to rectify it. I told myself that it was for the best. I wouldn't need to kill anymore—to break families apart and the world was already turning against us. It was time for me to taste the fruits of our work, to set down my rifle, and try to live in the peace we brought to this world, even if it was alone, away from everyone I loved. I lost so much in my life. I couldn't let it go to waste._

Pharah clenched the paper hard enough that it started wrinkling and even tear. If _she_ knew that the world was already going against Overwatch, why go into hiding? _She_ called Overwatch her family, but when push came to shove, _she_ left them get eaten by the wolves. Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Angela, and Jack. They all tried their best to keep things from falling apart. Had _she_ been there… Had _she_ helped… How many people would still live? Would Zurich had happened? Jack and Gabriel always listened to _her_. _She_ could've brought an end to things before they got out of control. _Selfish_. Pharah felt disgusted by it all. She was tempted to throw the letter out the window and forget she ever received it, but she was nowhere near done with it. She wanted an explanation, but it would have to wait, as her eyes connected with the driver's through the rear-view mirror.

"Is everything okay, dear customer?"

"Here's far enough." The cab came to a stop on the side of the road. Pharah collected the letter before taking out her credit chip and swiping it on the holoscreen in front of her seat. The charge was confirmed, and she took off before the omnic had a chance to thank her. She was close to home now. Nan and Pops sent her a message earlier in the day saying that they would be coming back late, which meant that Pharah had some time to read through the letter before they arrived; enough time to hide it away. Hopefully by then, her anger would have subsided and they wouldn't noticed that something was off with her.

Much like her desk, Pharah's home had once been clean of anything that gave it a personality. Helix provided the place for her as part of her contract. The place was also furnished by Helix so that she would be able to start working as soon as she relocated. That all changed when the Morrisons came to live with her. There was definitely a more homely feel to the place in its present state. It was nice. It reminded her of those times Jack would take everyone back to his family home to celebrate the end of the Omnic Crisis or whatever other excuse he had to get them all together. The Morrisons were always happy to host them all, going as far as providing them all with a place to stay, even if their own son was forced to sleep in the barn to let little Fareeha and her mother take his old bedroom. She once snuck out in the middle of the night to go find him. He told her all about growing up in the farm and other things that she would've never known otherwise. To think such an important figure would have such a humble beginning…

Pharah found herself in the modern kitchen, sitting on the table, a flower vase on it serving as decoration. She would've taken over her own desk, but Pops was working on a small scale model of some kind on it. She rathered not disturb the working area. Besides, she was able to pour herself some of the coffee that was ready for her on the coffee maker. There was even a note, telling her that she shouldn't drink too much otherwise she wouldn't be able to sleep. Despite it all, they still treated her like that little girl that visited the farm. It gave her a warm feeling, even if she did roll her eyes at the notes most of the time. Something told her the coffee wouldn't be guilty for her staying up at night this time around.

 _Decades of combat meant that I had to bury many friends. I saw both young and old fight side by side, eat with one another, and be laid to rest as equals day in and day out. I buried those close to me myself. I thought I would grow past the need to do so… I was wrong. When the incident in Zürich happened, I knew I couldn't stand idle and let them bury an empty casket. Not again. Not for Jack._

Pharah set down her cup, reading over the line a few more times. She wasn't blind. She knew that there was something going on between _her_ and the Commander. Most people close to the two of them knew about it, but never said a word out loud. It was like Overwatch's little secret, one which, if it'd gotten out, would have ended the careers of the couple. Whoever sent the letter…

 _I left my sanctuary, and with some help, entered Switzerland undetected. I never thought I would see the day that what was once my home would be reduced to rubble. It was a shock. More so when I didn't see any work being done to recover the agents still trapped underneath it all. Your father often called me stubborn, and it was that stubbornness that made me search through what little remained of my home in search for Jack._

Her eyes were glued to a single word. _...father.._. Pharah knew nothing about her father. She suspected a few people of being her father, but they vanished over time for one reason or another, never giving her a chance to ask them directly to confirm her suspicions. _She_ would _never_ mention her father. Not once in her life could she think of a time the word had crossed _her_ lips. So if this letter was from who Pharah thought it was from, why would _she_ mention him now?

 _My friend and I, we searched for days, slowly working our way down to the lower sectors. I was forced to wear a hazmat suit at some point, which made me sluggish and slow, but still I searched. I wasn't sure what I would find, or even if I would find anything at all. How could I do what so many failed to do before me? I knew him better than anyone else. I told myself that I would be able to find him. But as time went on and we kept coming up empty handed, I was losing hope. That is, until my companion noticed something. We searched for the source, but saw nothing more._

Of course they didn't. Jack's body was never found with good reason. What was the point of talking about it now? He was dead. No one would survive for that long in that kind of environment. She knew these things to be facts. The _world_ knew it. But then, why was her heart racing? Why did she feel hope? _Maybe..._

 _Just as we were losing hope, I heard someone call out to us. I knew the voice too well. And I followed it to it's source. There, trapped between stones that would've crushed any other man, lying on a pool of his own blood, I saw him. And though it was a herculean task, I could not leave him there to die._

Pharah's breathing became shaky.

 _Not him._

She had to set down the letter, but she kept reading.

 _He was a fighter. Always was._

Her mouth felt dry, but she only had coffee with her.

 _If there was anyone that could survive through it all, it was Jack. After all, he was made out leader for a reason._

Not even water would make her feel better.

 _He always refused to die._

There was no _way_! It was impossible to survive through it all! They all knew it!

 _Jack was alive. Jack_ is _alive._

If she hadn't been sitting already, her knees would have buckled under her.

 _We both are. But the world thinks us dead. Our watch is over._

Her brain was telling her to stop reading. It could all be some kind of sick, cruel joke—

 _Growing up, you often asked about your father. And though you eventually stopped asking, those question were soon replaced by harder ones. I blamed myself for it. We thought we were careful when we were together, but you saw us share a moment none other had since the end of the Omnic Crisis. You asked me if Jack was your father and if the three of us would be a family then. It was something I was not prepared to answer at the time. But now I think you deserve to know the truth..._

 _I have many other things I want to say to you, but I know you too well. You will doubt what's written on here without more proof. I've prepared something that will convince you. Open the smaller envelope, the one marked with a square. Maybe then you will be convinced._

 _With Love,_

 _Your mother, Ana_

A gentle squeeze of her shoulder was what snapped her out of her stupor. Her head snapped back as her breathing hitched and she quickly relaxed when she saw that it was Nan, with Pops setting down brown paper bag full of groceries on the table.

"Are you alright, dear?" Nan asked, looking at the soldier with concern. The older woman turned to her husband. "Honey, I think she could use your hankey."

Only then did Pharah realize that something was rolling down her cheeks. It confused her when she noticed they were tears. It had been years since she last cried. To think a simple letter that could still be nothing but a falsification would push her to that point was an embarrassment. She took the handkerchief offered to her and wiped them away before they could threaten to fall. She wanted to explain why she was like that, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth. Trying again ended in the same result. The Morrisons looked at her even more concerned now. What could she do? Her eyes turned to the small envelope that laid sealed on the table. With a shaking hand, she opened it. _Photos_. The three of them gasped.

A picture of Jack hooked up to half a dozen machines while he was lying in bed, his eyes bandaged.

Another one, but this time there weren't as many machine, and he was awake. A familiar looking figure was removing his bandages, revealing a pair of glowing eyes.

The next showed Jack in shorts, walking with the help of a short omnic and a girl that couldn't be older than twenty. He looked uncomfortable, but didn't look like he could fight it. But more importantly, Jack wore early 21st century prosthetics on both legs.

Jack meditating with an omnic.

One that made it seem like he was bossing people around while humans and alike omnics ran around in the background.

There were so many pictures that none of the three that looked at them could look away…

Then came the pictures of _her_ …

Ana, who now wore an eye-patch over her right eye, pushing Jack in a wheelchair.

The two of them laughing as they sat with the same omnic monk that Jack had been meditating with.

The second to last picture showed a gathering of a dozen people. At the center of it was Jack, who held Ana Amari to his side by her waist. At their feet, names were written in pen. "76" was under Jack. "Janina" under Pharah's mother. To each side of them stood two omnic. Pharah recognized one of them as the spiritual leader of the Shambali, Mondatta. Zenyatta was the name of the other one. Behind them was an Omnic Crisis Bastion unit with the name over its head simply being Bastion, a small bird on its shoulder. Then there was another surprise. An unmasked Genji crouched near Zenyatta, a smirk on his exposed face.

"My boy is alive…?" The broken voice of Pops echoed in the kitchen. Now it was him who needed the handkerchief, but it seemed like he wasn't the only one as both Nan and Fareeha herself were shedding tears as they tried to laugh. Fareeha stood up and enveloped the old couple in a hug, feeling a mixture of happiness and relief overtaking her.

The very last picture laid on the table. A selfie of Jack and Ana smiling at the camera, their cheeks touching. Underneath it, there was a text that read: "With love, Mom + Dad."


End file.
